You can ride my broomstick anyday, Harry
by juxtaposed
Summary: Sequel to Severus' Very Bad Day. Severus and Harry deal with the repercussions of Harry's prank. Sev gets drunk, Harry gets horny. Much madness ensues. Does this lead to some SLASH love? Of course it does! SSHP. WiP.
1. Stupid Alcohol Stupid Me

**Disclaimer**: _I own nothing from the Potterverse, cause it is all JK Rowling's_.

**AN**: _Hey all! This is the sequel to my first HPSS story, Severus' Very. Bad. Day. ; its about the repercussions of what Harry did. You don't **need** to read it to understand this one, but it'd probably make things clearer. Besides, it's a short, light fic, and I'd be ever **so** grateful if you checked it out and tell me what you think of it. _:)

_Now, the reason I created a new story for the sequel, even though it picks up exactly where it left off, is because this is going to become SLASH – I'm sure you guys saw that coming. So basically, for those who are squicked by such things, feel free to leave, and be satisfied with SVBD. But for those of you who like a little guy-on-guy loving…keep on reading, and (I hope) enjoy!_

**"You can ride my broomstick any day, Harry."  
**by **juxtaposed**

**Chapter One: Stupid Alcohol. Stupid Me.**

_"You can ride my broomstick any day, Harry."_

It was this single sentence that reverberated throughout Severus Snape's head. It was this one line that kept veins pounding relentlessly against his temple. It was this solitary remark that was slowly, but inexorably, driving him to the brink of certain insanity. He was sorely, sorely tempted to numb all his thoughts with a shot of his strongest Fire Whiskey, but he had learnt his lesson _there_. In fact, that was what had made him say that damned line anyway. He groaned out loud as he thought about it. _Again._

_"You can ride my broomstick any day, Harry."_

_Merlin, kill me now. If you have any mercy in you, you will strike me down in flames and pestilence and the pain of a thousand **crucio**s. _

His gaze flickered to a bottle of prime Fire Whiskey, but he dragged it away forcefully. That was what had caused this whole mess. Well, it was _part_ of the reason, anyway. His drunkenness had been because of _another _very odd predicament he had found himself in – he had been unable to control his behavior, and had ended up being _nice_.

That had been two days ago, when it had first started, and he had been uncharacteristically nice to everyone. _Everyone_. Even the blasted _Gryffindors_, which, obviously, had horrified him to no end. It had lasted for two days, and had only just worn out an hour ago, as he discovered when the unluckiest little Hufflepuff had crossed his path. He had been absolutely thrilled to discover that he had been able to not only insult, but also punish and send off crying, a student.

_At least something good finally happened_, he sighed to himself. The past forty-eight hours of him having to smile and be cheerful and friendly with everyone had been exhausting. Physically _and _mentally. It was just not in Severus Snape to be pleasant to other people, and it had drained his reserves for him to do so.

Of course, it had been one thing to just be affable, as he had been when the spell – hex – charm – _curse _– he didn't know _what_ misfortune exactly had befallen him, but it was more of a bloody curse than anything else, he felt – had first begun to wreak its havoc. In any case, simply that might have been tolerable, even forgettable – not by him, certainly; but by the students, after several detentions had been dealt and points deducted.

_But no, I had to get myself drunk._

Severus supposed it wasn't really his fault. After all, anyone else in his position would probably have done the same thing – drank themselves into a stupor. Of course, _not _everyone would have said what he had said.

_"You can ride my broomstick any day, Harry."_

Ugh. He had called the Potter brat _Harry_. Now, _why_ had he said that? _Why _had he stood there, smiling at the boy, called him by his first name, and then made a painfully blatant sexual innuendo to the brat?

_In front of thirty other students, no less._

_What the hell was I thinking?_

_Oh, no, that's right. I wasn't thinking. The alcohol was making it rather difficult. Not to mention that I still had to be pleasant._

_And why was I pleasant again?_

It was this, as much as that stupid line he had said, that ran constantly through his mind. Severus wasn't a stupid man. And years as a Slytherin, Death Eater and spy had given him unbelievable reflexes. And yet, somehow, somehow, someone had managed to catch him off his guard and cursed him to be nice.

_Well, it definitely wasn't a change of heart._

He snorted to himself as he thought this, momentarily amused at himself, then sobered up as he tried to think of who could possibly have done it to him, when, how and why.

Well, the _why_ part wasn't that hard.

He was a snarky bastard of a Potions Master, the requisite 'evil' professor that every school had to have.

_Although you'd think that with so many **actual** evil professors that the title wouldn't automatically land on me, _he mused. Not that he minded, of course. Severus actually rather delighted in the façade he had to present to the students. It had helped maintain his cover when he had been a spy on Voldemort. Of course, even when Voldemort was defeated and he had no need to remain as he was, he had chosen to do so. He found the students were often a lot more manageable that way.

And, of course, being the Slytherin that he was, Severus thoroughly enjoyed making his scathing little remarks. Especially since it was actually expected of him – he didn't need to explain himself to anyone if he, oh say, told a student she looked like a bullfrog, or if he deducted dozens of points from any house other than Slytherin, just for the heck of it.

He always made sure he had someone to take the fall for the points being deducted, of course. It would have been no good if he had suddenly declared "A hundred points from Gryffindor!" with no reason, that would have made him look _too_ discriminatory. So he took great pleasure in waiting for students to make even the slightest mistake. And even when he wasn't in class, he enjoyed prowling the halls for unfortunate, wayward students.

Failing which, he always had his three favorite students to harass. Well, four, counting that Longbottom fellow – thank Merlin he had dropped Potions after fifth year. But without him, it was just _those_ three – the Gryffindor Golden trio; the Dream Team; Boy Wonder and his sidekicks…

Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Just-Would-_Not_-Die, who looked so much like his rather detestable father yet acted so much like his rather compassionate mother that it drove Severus insane to no end.Hermione Granger, that annoying know-it-all, who he grudgingly had to admit usually _did _know it all. Ronald Weasley, who thankfully had also dropped Potions, but nonetheless seemed to be always attached to the other two. Those three could always be counted on to be found sneaking around the castle late at night, and Severus often found himself actively searching for them, just to meet out detentions and other punishments.

Why?

Why, because he could, of course.

Severus let out a chuckle. Yes, the Golden Trio were always good to cheer him up.

_But not right now_, he sighed darkly. Now, it just brought thoughts of that damned Potter brat. Which, in turn, brought up what he had said to said brat. Which, in turn, led to his unusual behavior. Which, in turn, took him round and round in useless circles of thought. Which, in turn, left him with a massive headache.

_"You can ride my broomstick any day, Harry."_

He stared at the hard liquor on his mantle. It was practically calling his name, asking him to drink, drink away all his problems…his biggest problem at the moment being that damned line…

_"You can ride my broomstick any day, Harry."_

He glowered at the Fire Whiskey suspiciously. Was it the one that was repeating that stupid line to him over and over again? It simply stood where it was, silently mocking him.

"Well? Are you?" he yelled at it. It remained where it was.

_Oh, Merlin. I'm yelling at my drinks._

_"You can ride my broomstick any day, Harry."_

"Argh!" Severus suddenly threw his hands up and growled in exasperation, casting another glare at the bottle.

_Goddamn sexual double entendres. _

He was fully in denial, of course. And he was, obtusely enough, well aware of that fact. He chose to accept that he was in denial. It saved him from analyzing himself.

After all, he knew he was gay. Not _flamboyantly_ gay, - like that bloody ponce Lockhart - but gay.

And he knew he found Harry Potter attractive. What with those brilliant jade eyes, and chiseled jawline, and deliciously messy hair, and full pouty lips, and Quidditch-sculpted body… Besides which, he really was rather intelligent, and powerful and courageous – _of course, he's a bloody Gryffindor who defeated the Dark Lord_, Severus couldn't help thinking – and loyal, and on several occasions that Severus had been privy to, rather witty and a pleasant conversationalist. And then there were those eyes, and hair, and lips, and body…

Severus could put two and two together. But he simply chose not to.

_I have enough issues to deal with without having to acknowledge the fact that I have some silly schoolgirl crush on Harry bloody-James Potter._

_Like, for the fact, someone actually managed to get past my defenses to put a curse on me._

Severus groaned, massaging his throbbing temple, eyeing his extremely tempting liquor. He wasn't by nature a vain person, but he did take considerable pride in being constantly vigilant – Mad Eye Moody's words flashed in his head – and never being caught off guard.

Well, except for this time.

_Stupid spell._

_Stupid alcohol._

_Stupid **me**._

_I might as well have had gone up to him, batted my eyelashes and giggled incessantly at his every word, like so many of those blasted younger girls, for all I did. I fell two knuts short of telling him I rather fancied him._

_"You can ride my broomstick any day, Harry."_

_Honestly._

Telling Harry Potter, bloody savior of the Wizarding World, that he, Severus Snape, only famed for being the greasy git extraordinaire, something as outrageous that. What was he thinking? Potter was probably naïve and innocent, and likely straight as a wand, anyway. Severus hadn't seen him with a girl since that Ravenclaw two years ago, so he was fairly sure of the first assessment, but it did cast a shadow of doubt over the second.

Not that he noticed things like that.

And not like he cared about which gender Potter preferred.

Not at all.

He found himself staring rather lustily, and rather angrily, at the still-full bottle of Fire Whiskey.

_Focus!_ He commanded himself. _Do not think about drinking. And the bottle is **not** mocking me. It wouldn't **dare**. _

He forced himself to dwell on the conundrum that was the 'curse of being nice', as he had taken to thinking of it. Obviously, the question of _why_ anyone would want to do that to him was something that didn't really need to be asked. But the _when_ and _how_ and _who_…that was what bothered him.

Who would want to do that to him, was, again, a question with too many answers. But who _could_ have done it; _that_ narrowed the field considerably. It would have taken a very smart, very sneaky, very cunning, very organized, very powerful and very brave witch or wizard to have been able to pull one over Severus Snape. Immediately he thought of his Slytherins, but just as immediately dismissed the idea. They may have fit the profile – especially the cunning part - but he was positive none of them would want, dare, or try to pull a stunt like that on him. Almost as quickly, he dismissed Hufflepuffs. That left the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors.

Well, the Ravenclaws were definitely smart enough, and there were probably some decent strategists among them, but he could think of very few who would actually go through with a plan to curse a teacher. The Gryffindors…were certainly brave and foolhardy enough, and weren't exactly the bottom of the barrel in brains, but he couldn't imagine any of them being sneaky enough – after all, Gryffindors were supposed to be noble and honest and all that rubbish.

He groaned. This was getting him nowhere.

_"You can ride my broomstick any day, Harry."_

_Not again!_

He grabbed the nearest pillow and screamed his frustration into it, before chucking it at the bottle of Fire Whiskey.

* * *

AN: _And there you have it! The first installment of the sequel! I'd love to know what you guys think about this, and there's only one way for me to find out...you have to click the little purple button and **review**! Thanks!_

AN: _I'd also like to take a couple of minutes to quickly thank everyone who read my first story and gave me such nice reviews - you guys rock! So **thank you** to **J Black, suvyn, SithelfJen, ataraxis, jess, limpet666, **and **Starburst598 **for all your kind and extremely encouraging words! I hope this lives up to what you guys were all expecting!  
And to **duj** - I'm not sure if you were being serious or not, but I guess I should mention that in my version of the Potterverse, Harry has already defeated Voldie. So don't fret over what would not have been - I like Severus and would not send him to his death. _:)


	2. My Potions Professor and I

**Disclaimer:**_ Hey, if I owned the Potter-verse, Sirius wouldnt be dead, and he and Remus would be shacking up. Not to mention Harry would be having hot, torrid flings with Ginny and Draco **and** Snape. Draw your own conclusions, why dont you?_

**"You can ride my broomstick any day, Harry."  
**by** juxtaposed**

****

**Chapter Two: My Potions Professor and I**

_"You can ride my broomstick any day, Harry."_

In the comfort of his bed, Harry Potter was also pondering upon the very same line. His face flushed as he thought about the implications of those words.

_Could he…did he…was he…_

_Did it mean what I think it might mean?_

_I mean, if he meant…if he meant what it might mean…_

_That would be wrong._

_Right?_

_Merlin, that would be **very** wrong. My Potions professor and I? Okay, now that just sounds like a very bad movie. 'My Potions Professor and I', starring Severus Snape and Harry Potter! – I'm sure that'd just bring in the Galleons._

Harry was rather appalled at his teacher's words, of course, but he couldn't say that he was terribly shocked. After all, he had cast a spell on Snape to make him nice to everyone; that would have included Harry too, he guessed. _Nice, not flirtatious_, his mind pointed out. Then again, the Potions Master had been drunk. Ridiculously drunk. Harry was amazed that Snape had even been able to make his way around the school instead of spending hours collapsed in front of the toilet bowl.

A twinge of guilt wormed its way into Harry, as he realized that Snape's drunkenness was doubtless a result of his prank. Despite what everyone thought, he didn't actually despise the much-despised professor. His prank hadn't been a malicious way of getting revenge on Snape, rather he had wanted a challenge for himself – after defeating Voldemort, there were only so few things that could thrill him. And trying to prank the man who had countless years of experience and well-honed instincts and reflexes, was definitely a challenge.

Besides, it had been hilarious to see him so utterly reproachful about being pleasant to his students. Not only to his students, of course – Harry chuckled as he recalled Snape pulling Trelawney into a hearty bear hug, which resulted with the latter screaming in fright and running away from the former, who simply grinned cheerfully and waved her off.

And Harry had to admit he rather enjoyed seeing Snape's face lit up, even if it wasn't real. His face just seemed younger, his entire demeanour seemed lighter, and Harry had admired the potential of Snape being a very attractive man if only he wanted to be.

Did I just think that he could be attractive? 

_Oh dear._

_I mean…No! He's **not attractive**. He's…he's **greasy**. And **pale**. And **not **at all **attractive**._

Harry was rather proud of himself for being so firm about the matter on hand, when another part of his mind spoke up, challenging his own thoughts.

_Except that you know his hair only looks that way because of the potions, and he's pale because he doesn't go out into the sun. In fact, when he was out with the students, he actually developed a hint of a tan that looked rather delectable, and –_

_Aah! No! I did not just think he was **delectable**. He…he…he's an overgrown bat!_

_Actually, when his robes billow, he looks pretty damn hot. In that whole tall, dark, mysterious stranger sort of way._

_Will you **stop** that?_

Harry cast a mental glare at himself, and immediately got one in return.

_Okay, now I **know** I'm crazy, because I just glared at myself – twice. Merlin help me._

_You're way past even Merlin's help._

_Shut up._

Suddenly… "_You can ride my broomstick any day, Harry."_

The voice of his teacher floated again into his mind, and Harry groaned, but paused when he heard Ron, in the adjourning bed, stir slightly. Then Harry turned to bury his face into his pillow before resuming his growls of frustration and annoyance. He didn't exactly hold anything against Snape, per say – he knew that was just the eleven-year-old-boy-who-had-been-terrified-out-of-his-wits-by-the-terrifying-Potions-Professor in him speaking. The same boy who, in his naivety, considered all Slytherins to be arrogant, cruel, heartless bastards; with their Head of House and supposed "prince" his mortal enemies.

It was the side of him that tried his hardest to pin the blame of many unfortunate matters upon the Potions Master, no matter how unfounded and immature it was. Most notable, of course, was Sirius' death – Harry had taken _quite_ a while to accept that maybe it hadn't been _all_ Snape's fault.

Although it was just easier to accuse him of all responsibility, than to spend months wallowing in guilt, he had finally come to terms that sometimes the people he had spent so long thinking could do no wrong, could, and often did; while people he might have perceived as evil really weren't what they seemed. So he had stopped placing his late godfather on a pedestal, learnt to face the fact that even the wizened Headmaster had his faults, and tried to ignore the instinct to run away from the formidable Potions teacher. Eventually, he had come to grips with it all – well, he had been pretty much forced to, what with trying to outsmart and bring the downfall of Voldemort, a feat that usually included Snape in varying degrees of involvement.

And so, the seventeen-year-old Harry, who had worked closely with aforementioned professor in defeating the Dark Lord, soon begun to appreciate that the embittered man truly was an intelligent one, with a wicked sense of humor, if one knew how to recognize it. Which Harry was rather proud to say he did, though it took months to learn to differentiate dry sarcasm from truly caustic remarks, both often at Harry's own expense. All this as well as being remarkably brave and cunning – after all, one couldn't possibly be a spy against Voldemort without possessing those qualities. And as a Gryffindor, Harry couldn't help but find himself extremely impressed that the Head of Slytherin could claim to have those traits, traits that were very high up on Harry's list of Qualities To Look For In Other People.

So while the eleven-year-old in him still protested that anything positive could never be within reach of the fearsome Potions Master, the seventeen-year-old Harry rather admired the snarky man, truth be told.

_But I don't find him attractive_, he assured himself. Admiration and respect were vastly different things than attraction and desire, and – _where the hell did **desire** come from?_

Desire would indicate a want of some sort. _I feel no desire for the man. _

_Oh really? _

_Yes, **really**._

_Not even when you saw him break into a smile that made your knees weak?_

_Not even when – I mean, I did no such th – sigh…how did you know about that?_

_You **wanted** him, just admit it. For that brief period of time –_

_Very brief._

_Alright, yes, for that **very brief **period of time, you wanted him. You were attracted to him, you desired him. Admit it._

_Well, …a little._

_Just a little._

Harry muffled another sigh of exasperation.

_But its not like that isn't alright – I mean, I bet loads of people have fancied him at one point or another, and **no**, wait, this is **Snape **we're talking about here, so I **am** going insane, because I think I have some sort of inexplicable…**crush** on the blasted man!_

_But it is perfectly normal to have a crush on a teacher. Its like, a requisite of growing up. I mean, I know Ron and Dean thought the DADA teacher last year was cute, and Ginny's fancied Remus, even Hermione did too, plus she had that crush on Lockhart, so its really quite normal to have an attraction to a teacher._

Even if it _was_ Snape.

Who was still an evil bastard to the rest of the world.

Not to mention male.

He didn't really care about this fact; he had discovered that homosexuality was easily accepted in wizarding circles - although it was common for gay wizards to end up with the other sex simply to procreate. While he found this part to be a strange practice, he was nonetheless grateful that he would be free to experiment either way, with no retribution or bad press coming back to bite him in his ass.

Because Harry didn't really know what his preferences were, in all honesty. After all, he had once thought Cho Chang to be the prettiest girl ever - until she became an emotional wreck, and he had noticed just how pretty Hermione and Ginny were becoming; but then again he had also reckoned that Bill Weasley was rather handsome, and that Sirius – if he hadn't been his godfather - was so good-looking he might likely have had a crush on him.

But then again, those were all physical attributes that he was considering, and his thoughts on the matter were likely shared by a good lot of other people.

_Snape_ however…

Harry personally thought that there was a sort of smoldering presence to the man, but he might have been swayed by his knowledge of Snape's true personality. Meanwhile, the rest of Hogwarts who still saw him as the greasy git of a Potions professor, would probably haul him off to St Mungo's if they knew what he really thought. And felt.

And they would wonder why on earth the Boy-Who-Lived, who had virtually all of the wizarding world to choose a lover, would choose _this_ man.

Why, of all wizards, he would choose Professor Severus Snape…

The teacher who had single-handedly made his whole life at Hogwarts some sort of living hell, regardless of whether Voldemort and his evil cronies were trying to kill him in one way or another.

The professor who had taken great and utter delight in issuing him detention after detention, or deducting copious amounts of Gryffindor House Points.

The man who had seemingly lived to degrade him and constantly spurn him with dry, caustic remarks.

And yet, he was the same person who had, upon countless occasions, saved him from certain death, or other life-threatening situations.

He was the single figure that could possibly have helped him defeat Voldemort the way he had, risking life and limb for the greater good.

He was the one staff member who had proven to be the only true constant in Harry's life, even if it was for nothing more than his simple, unwavering disapproval of, well, Harry's life.

If for nothing else but his unflagging integrity, Severus Snape proved to be quite the crush-worthy man.

This realization struck Harry hard, and he could feel blood drain from his head, leaving him faint and vaguely nauseous.

_Oh, dear gods. _

_I'm infatuated with my Potions professor._

And with that thought, Harry quickly cast a silencing charm around his bed, before releasing a half-yell of frustration into his pillow.

* * *

AN: _(scrambles for cover) Eep! I know, I know, its taken me close to forever to come up with chapter two, but I had the god-awful affliction known as Writer's Block (ooh, uppercase...), and I'm still not completely satisfied with this chapter, but I just need to get it out of the way, out of my system, and out onto FFNet, so that I can hopefully get cracking on the next chapter. Hope you guys like it, and I really am sorry for the five-week wait._

_Thanks to my wonderful readers and reviewers, **Somnia Lustre, Klover P, Sofia Dragon, Queenie-97, Pris, ataraxis, penny, Lee Lee Potter, A Person, jess, Ishy **and** Nilu -** I think I love you all because you're all so nice and make me feel all warm and fuzzy. Chocolate-covered chocolate chip cookies and hot fudge for you all!_

_Again, I do apologize for the long wait, and hopefully its somewhat been worth it...let me know, wont you? (grin)_


	3. Conversation With the Headmaster, Part O...

**Disclaimer:**_ Until the day comes that you see Harry and Severus or Draco frolicking around, it'll be safe to assume that I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters._

**"You Can Ride My Broomstick Any Day, Harry"  
**by **juxtaposed**

****

**Chapter T****hree: Conversation with the Headmaster, Part One**

****

The crashing of the bottle of Firewhiskey did nothing to soothe Severus' nerves. If anything, it only served to aggravate him further, because now not only was he dealing with a rather tiresome problem with no discernable answer and a pounding headache, but now…_now there was no alcohol_.

_Goddamnit._

Severus stared sulkily at the puddle of liquor that was steadily spreading across the hard dungeon floor, bits of glass sprinkled throughout. He flicked his wand at it and it immediately all vanished, and his scowl deepened.

_This is all…_ he paused and growled, remembering that he still had no clue as to who he could possibly lay blame for his current condition upon. _Well, its someone's fault. Someone who will subsequently suffer a slow, painful death. Oh, yes, a long, torturous death is definitely required. _A grim, wicked smile crossed Severus' lips. Now he just had to figure out who…

And how…

And when…

_Goddamnit. I need more alcohol._

Severus glared at nothing in particular, channeling all his anger into that one harsh look.

Across the room, a rack of small vials exploded. Lucky for Severus, they were still empty, so he had avoided a nasty potions disaster, but he scowled heavily anyway as he recalled that those were new vials, a special order from the apothecary.

_Damn it. Impervious to even the strongest shattering curse, resistant to the harshest blow, withstands even the most volatile potions…and I blow it up with an angry look. Either there's a serious production flaw, or I really must learn to control my temper better._

He paused to think for a while, and his characteristic smirk flitted across his lips.

_It's a production flaw._

After all, he, Severus S. Snape, had_ perfect_ control of his emotions. He simply needed to…_redirect_ them.

And when he discovered who was behind his two days of hell, there would be copious amounts of _redirection._

_Yes, yes, that's a viable plan._

Now, armed with a malevolent sort of determination, Severus began to thoroughly reexamine his activities of the past week or so, trying to discern any clues and recall any information he might have not thought of, in hopes that he might perhaps reach a conclusion to his 'problem'.

_Meeting with Albus, meeting with Filius, breakfasts and dinners in the Great Hall, Potions classes, yelling at some fourth years, yelling at Potter…_

_Potter._

Severus snarled at the thought of the boy, but forced himself not to go on another tangent, and instead refocused himself on his puzzling predicament.

_Tea with Minerva, tea with Draco, detentions with some third years, detention with H - Potter…_

_Potter again!_

Severus tried to ignore the throbbing vein in his temple – and other places, and focused on recollecting his thoughts once more.

_Experimenting with new potions, having one of those potions explode because of that damned House-Elf, the old Malfoy one that Har - Potter freed…_

_Harry-fucking-Potter._

_He's everywhere! Like an overgrown weed, or a very cumbersome rash. Can't even give me some peace in my own goddamn thoughts._

Severus felt mildly better thinking those thoughts. As long as he thought about the brat as exactly that – a brat – the easier it was to ignore the fact that he was a very attractive brat.

Or pretend to ignore, anyway.

He returned to recounting recent events.

Images began flitting through his mind; of the past few days, of his behavior, of the words he had said to Harry-bleeding-Potter…

_Harry_.

_Dear Merlin. He's not a disease, he's a bloody epidemic._

His scowl deepened as the name sprang, unbidden, into his mind once more. And he was most displeased to find that in it, he had referred to the brat by his given name.

_Now, why am I thinking about the damn brat? By his godforsaken name, no less?_

None of the thoughts that he got as a reply to this self-posed question was at all acceptable.

_No, no, no!_

There _had_ to be a good reason for it. Because otherwise, Severus would _surely _not care at all to indulge in less-than-pure thoughts of his student.

He was saved from his own scathing thoughts by a sudden flash of light, temporarily blinding him. Then a single phoenix feather floated down onto his lap, a note attached to it. Severus stared at it for a long moment, unable to contain the groan that escaped his lips.

_Oh, great. The old man has something to say._

With some trepidation, Severus removed the note, and with a flick of his wand, sent the phoenix feather off into his storage for possible future use; then he unfolded the parchment to see the Headmaster's loopy scrawl:

_Severus,  
__Do come up to my office for some late night drinks.  
__Albus_

Severus rolled his eyes at the use of the words "late night drinks".

_Makes it sound as though we're going to have cocktails, or as if I'm going to knock back a few with him._

This presented an extremely amusing visual, but his mirth was immediately suppressed as he reread the note.

Since there was no time mentioned, or even an "at your convenience", Severus knew it was Dumbledore's way of saying "Get up here right _now_." He groaned again. He didn't particularly feel like talking to anyone right now, and he knew what the Headmaster wanted – to discuss what exactly had been going on in Severus' head the past couple of days – as the older man had the annoying tendency to be unrelentingly nosy about matters such as this, and was no doubt slowly dying inside wanting to know what had happened, exactly.

_As if I know._

Still, he pulled himself up from his chair and prepared to leave his chambers – it would be better to deal with Albus now, he figured, than to wait for the man to become even more curious. He had learnt his lesson with that one – when Albus Dumbledore put it into his head that he wanted to know the truth behind a matter, he would do whatever it took to get it, anyone or anything in his way, be damned – the hard way, and was not keen to repeat it.

Ten minutes later saw him stalking the almost-empty corridors making his way to the damned stone gargoyle that guarded the Headmaster's office. As he approached, it leapt to the side, and he was more than relieved that he did not have to spend minutes snapping candy-names at it, because he honestly could never be bothered to keep track of the names of all the different sweets that had ever existed, which the slightly batty old man seemed determine to exhaust as his set passwords.

Albus was sitting behind his desk, a pleasant smile on his lips and the most damned annoying twinkle in his eyes, his fingers interlocked resting on the table, when Severus strode in. He looked up with a wide smile.

"Ah, Severus, so good to have you up here. Please, have a seat." He gestured to a chair in front of him. "Lemon drop? Tea?"

"No," Severus said bluntly, then added a sullen, "Thank you."

The Headmaster remained unfazed. "Ah, coffee, then?" He conjured up a pot of steaming coffee and then peered at Severus in that annoying _cheerful_ way of his, the way that made Severus want to wrap his hands around his _own_ throat and strangle himself to death.

Or at least into unconsciousness.

"Very well, then," Severus acquiesced with a small scowl, only because that look in the other man's eyes was clearly saying 'Take some damn coffee or you wont like the consequences'.

At the Potions Master's words, Albus brightened even more and all but clapped his hands in glee as he poured out a cup of coffee. "Black, three sugars, yes?" he asked, more to himself than Severus, dropping in three sugar cubes as he did so.

"Thank you," Severus nodded stiffly as he took his cup from Albus and inhaled the rich aroma. Whatever else could be said about the old man – like '_raving lunatic_', for example – there was no denying that he made a damn good coffee.

As the Head of Slytherin took his first sip of drink, Albus sat back into his chair. "So, Severus," he began conversationally.

Severus' eyes immediately narrowed as he looked up from his coffee. "Headmaster."

Albus rolled his eyes. "None of that now, Severus. We're not here to discuss work-related matters."

Severus also rolled his eyes. "Very well. Albus."

The Headmaster was delighted at this. Severus was not so much.

_Could this man get any happier? _

"So, Severus," Albus repeated, and again the man in question was on his guard. "I understand that for the last couple of days, things have been a little different."

Severus snorted. "That's a hell of an understatement, Albus."

"Oh, do tell," the older wizard leaned forward eagerly.

_I didn't think it was even physically possible for anyone to be that cheerful. _

Severus scowled. "There is nothing to tell." Off the Headmaster's look, he felt obliged to add, "I have no clue about the entire matter myself."

"Ahh, we have a mystery upon our hands!" Albus, far from being discouraged with the news, actually seemed to become even more elated.

_It can't actually be healthy for him. _

"I suppose we do," Severus half-heartedly humored him, his tone becoming drier with each word. "Whatever shall we do."

Albus' eyes would not stop twinkling, it was beginning to become extremely distracting to Severus.

_Isn't he in some sort of danger from exploding from joy?_

"What will we do? Why, we must get to the bottom of it, of course, and uncover the truth!" he said, in an excited sort of hushed exclamation.

Severus paused, more than a little stunned at the Headmaster's reaction. "We must?"

"We must!" Albus nodded happily.

"We must," Severus sighed in resignation, knowing that Albus would have it no other way now. "Very well, Albus, what will you have us do?"

His eyes never lost their damn sparkle, Severus noticed, even as they narrowed slightly in thought. "Well, the very first thing in uncovering a mystery is to decipher all the clues. What clues do you have, Severus?"

Severus bit back a snippy retort – that he obviously had _no_ sodding clue, because if he _did_ he obviously wouldn't be here sitting in the company of a madman, drinking coffee and discussing mysteries, he would be out seeking vengeance and wreaking havoc upon the poor misfortunate soul who had even _thought_ to pull this stunt on him – solely out of his respect for the kooky man.

Instead, he very calmly stated, "I don't think I have any, Albus. I have no idea who did it to me, how and when it was done, or even what it was."

"Ah, but we _do_ have a clue, Severus, my dear boy." Albus stated gleefully. He paused, obviously waiting for Severus to ask what it was, completely oblivious to the dark scowl that was being shot at him by said wizard.

Severus knew that Albus had no reason to be afraid of his all-but-patented death glare, but _honestly_. It couldn't hurt for him to pretend. Or even to just acknowledge it. After all, Severus had spent long days and nights perfecting the acerbic look, and here it was, being so casually dismissed. If Albus Dumbledore had been anyone else…

Albus was still smiling expectantly at Severus, who nearly growled as he forced himself to ask, "What is this clue that we have, Albus?"

"Ah, I thought you'd never ask!" Albus blatantly ignored the glare from Severus. "You see, we know the _effect_ of whatever was done to you!" he announced triumphantly, as if he had solved a great mystery, and Severus had the distinct feeling that Albus felt he had.

But Severus merely stared blankly at the other man. "…And that helps us how?"

_Aha! So he **can** be ruffled! _

Severus suddenly felt a flash of victory as Albus' triumphant sparkle faded just a little and his smug smile faded just a bit. Nonetheless, the Headmaster's composure never wavered, and his eyes picked up their glimmer once more as he leaned forward to explain to Severus.

"You see, if we know the effect, we can work backwards from there to discover what was cast upon you, and then we can figure out how it was done, and when, and finally who!"

Severus was loathe to tell the determinedly happy man that he had already tried to distinguish which spell had been cast on him and had failed miserably, but he did anyway. "I'm afraid, Albus, that I've already thought this matter over. There is no spell that produces the exact effect, and while there maybe potions, I'm very sure I would not have been foolish enough to consume anything laced with one."

"I'm sure you wouldn't have been, Severus." Albus frowned. "Hmm. This does leave us with quite the conundrum."

And then there was that damnable twinkle again, and Severus was suddenly very apprehensive about the next words about to leave the Headmaster's mouth. Sure enough,

"Well, we'll just have to stay here and try to figure it out! The night's still young yet! Lemon drop?"

* * *

AN: _Jeepers creepers and jinkies! Long wait! But only a month this time, as opposed to five weeks...sheepish grin Writer's Block struck again, but it's getting much better - I'm very fond of this (longer!) chapter, I hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I loved writing it, and wont you all kindly **review** to tell me? (grins and prods all of you) It's my **birthday**, be nice! And yes, I'm hoping that by shamelessly telling all of you that, you'll be more inclined to **review**. Is it working?_

_Thanks, gratitude, appreciations, love, cookies, and long nights of hot loving to:  
**Melie** (well, Harry's still young, and it was more of a self-denial phase, but thanks for the comments, I appreciate your honesty); **shadow fox12; Klover P** (confrontation to come!); **Marauders-Lover; enchantress646** (am I forgiven now?); **ataraxis** (squee! glad you liked it!); **moseys-dragon; Ishy; Pris; penny; MoonSnoAngel** (you sent my story to people? squee! again); **Tazthedevilman; Lady Shang; Wolflady; Lain-Iris; Sara; Tigris T Draconis** (squee! yet again! Thank you!); and **Somnia Lustre** (hehe, glad you think so.).  
You guys rock my world. _

_I promise a shorter wait for the next chapter (three weeks this time, maybe? Heh heh.), but til then you can go to my LJ and bug me, or read up on its progress. Yep, more shameless self-promotion. (prods again) **Review**, then **Go!**_


	4. The Staff Meeting From Hell, Or Somethin...

**Disclaimer:** _Dont own them! If I did, I **so** would not be in uni._

**"You Can Ride My Broomstick Any Day, Harry"**  
by** juxtaposed**

**Chapter Four: The Staff Meeting From Hell, Or Something Like It**

Looks, Severus decided, could indeed kill, because the cheerful smile he was getting from Albus made him want to point his wand onto himself and scream "Avada Kedavra! Avada Kedavra! Avada Kedavra already, damnit!"

Needless to say, it was a very disgruntled Severus Snape that left the Headmaster's office an hour later, after he had finally exploded at the ever-twinkling Headmaster.

"You know, it occurs to me, Albus, that surely you, _Albus_, with your omnipotent, omnipresent, omniscient self, must have some sort of clue as to who is behind this, and as such, we are simply wasting time recalling my memory of the events. Or perhaps you just take some sort of perverse pleasure in making me suffer this way," Severus had snarled, and glared furiously, while, much to his chagrin, Albus had _twinkled_ yet some more.

"I'm right, aren't I?" Severus said accusingly. "You _know_ who is responsible, you mad, glitter-eyed _sadist_."

While the headmaster, who had calmly regarded the irate Potions Master, certainly never admitted to knowing, there had been that damned sodding _twinkle_ again, and that had been as good as an admission for Severus, and he had snapped.

"Well then," he had hissed, "kindly explain, why you are having me do this. Why couldn't you just have told me who it was, so that I could be off, right now, to hex the bleeding fool into oblivion, instead of sitting here drinking your irritatingly good coffee and getting blinded by the sparkle in your eyes?"

"Why, Severus," Albus had smiled. "I never knew you felt that way about me."

That was when Severus had walked out wordlessly from the room.

_Why me? _

_Why is it always **me**? Why am **I** the one to get stuck with madmen and being nice and saying bad things to damn Gryffindor heroes? Is it penance for being a Death Eater, because I really have repented for that, and, and…_

And then it had suddenly occurred to him.

He turned around abruptly and stalked back into the Headmaster's office. "Potter!"

"What was that, my dear boy?" Albus smiled innocently from where he was still seated.

"It has to be Potter!" Severus growled. "He's the only one who you protect to this degree!"

"Now, Severus," Albus chastised gently. "Lets not jump to conclusions."

"It's him, isn't it!" Severus was verging on hysterical. "That's it. I'm going to kill him. Even you, Albus, cannot stop me. All your coffee and your twinkles and your sodding lemon drops cannot help him now!"

"Do not," Albus suddenly rumbled threateningly, "insult my lemon drops."

Severus barely processed the absurdity of the situation he was in, and instead asked hopefully, "If I don't, does that mean I get to kill Potter?"

"No," Albus said, calm and gleaming-eyed again. "You may not kill Harry."

"Damn," muttered Severus, and turned around and left the office once more.

"Don't forget about the staff get-together in the morning, Severus!" Albus called after him cheerfully.

Severus didn't even bother to stop to cast a hex at the old man's doors.

He wandered back down to his private rooms, mulling over the possibility that it was indeed Harry who was behind his misfortune, and contemplating ways to kill him either way and make it look like an accident. His mind, however, twisted from years of being a Death Eater, he was sure – what else could it have been? Certainly not any _sexual desire_ – meant that the term "punishing Potter" was taking on more facets than he had meant it to, as was "torturing Harry for hours and locking him in the dungeons", "screwing him over" and "fucking him up".

_And_, he growled at himself, _any whips and chains I use on the brat will be for pain, not pleasure or any sadomasochistic tendencies!_

Upon taking note of the time then, he undressed for bed and sunk himself down into his soft mattress, his mind filled with thoughts and visions of annoyingly sparkly blue eyes and an overbearingly cheerful Headmaster, which he growled at. It all quickly turned into annoyingly lust-inducing green orbs and an unintentionally charming Boy-Who-Lived, which brought on a growl of an entirely different kind.

_The Boy-Who-Fucking-Lived. Bah. Harry-Fucking-James-Fucking-Potter. Fucking Golden Boy. Fuck it all._

_Fuck him._

_Oh, how I'd like that very much._

_Wait. That did not come out quite right._

_I really ought to stop thinking about Potter and fucking in the same sentence. _

_Even if the idea has its merits._

_No! No! There are **no** merits! And certainly none to do with those strong legs that are always wrapped around a broomstick – no!_

Fortunately for Severus, it had been a long day, and he soon fell asleep without any further progression of thought.

Unfortunately for him, Harry had been his very last thought, and it was there that his mind chose to dwell for the night, leaving him with many, many, many dreams about his student – not all of them appropriate for him to have had, seeing as how they weren't strictly confined to the Potter-causes-trouble-and-gets-detention variety. Rather, 'detention' had quickly turned into a very vocal Harry bent over his table, with him behind the younger man, holding onto his hips and pounding relentlessly and –

Severus woke up feeling distinctly _unclean_ and in great need of a cold shower. Or two. Or three.

And a shot of Fire Whiskey. Or two. Or three.

What was it about Harry Potter, Severus Snape was beginning to wonder, that drove him to seeking out a stiff – _ugh, bad choice of words –_ hard – _not much better – _potent – _oh, sod it, it'll do –_ alcoholic drink?

_Besides the fact that he's insufferable, impertinent, arrogant, disrespectful, incorrigible, annoying, irritating, infuriating, insolent, unbearable, irredeemable, aggravating, bothersome and exasperating, of course._

_The fact that I still desire him anyway, perhaps._

Severus stared morosely across his room. Then, with a dragged-out sigh, came "_Accio_ Fire Whiskey!"

_

* * *

_

__

_I am a very useless Potions Master, _Severus found himself thinking an hour later, _if I cannot develop a proper cure for hangovers._

_I am a very useless Head of Slytherin,_ he continued to himself silently_, if I cannot devise a way to evade staff 'get-togethers'._

_I am also a very useless spy, _he finally concluded, _if I cannot even pretend that I am not in the least bit drunk._

"Huwhatzit?" Severus slurred loudly. "No, no, there are no Gryffies in my dungeon."

Beside him, Filius Flitwick appeared to be going into a fit as he attempted to stifle his laughter. "And what is so funny, Fil- Fli – Fili – Flilili, Filli, Filfli, oh, Fifi, you really need a new name."

Filius shot an annoyed look up at the Slytherin Head, but it was quickly replaced with a wide grin. "Only because it is so patently obviously that you are drunk off your arse, will I let it go that you just called me _Fifi_." A wicked smirk crossed the shorter man's face. "_Sevvie._"

Severus may have been inebriated, but he was still fairly in control of his thoughts. Somewhat. His eyes narrowed at Filius, both as a reprimand and as a method of focusing the three men before him into one. "Do not," he declared, his accent crisper and more pronounced than before, although his words were dragged out, "call me Sevvie, or you will feel the pain of my very darkest art spells."

In his attempt to remain a haughty pureblood with massive evil at his disposal, while still greatly under the influence, Severus had begun to spit as he spoke the last few words.

Filius had blinked at him three times, then casually raised his hand to wipe off spittle from his forehead.

Severus had glared threateningly down his nose as snootily as he could, which could have been rather intimidating, perhaps, but was somewhat spoiled by his bobbing and swaying on his feet, indicated by a barely-concealed snicker on Filius' part.

"Of course, of course, Severus." Filius humored him.

"Good, Fifi." Severus nodded sharply, and swiftly found himself the recipient of a surprisingly feral growl that made others in the vicinity shrink back a little, and much to Severus' seemingly never-ending chagrin, him as well.

_Oh great, even Fifi, who is hardly two feet tall, is scarier than I am._ Severus thought petulantly.

He tried to issue a growl of his own, directed at Trelawney, who was a few feet away rambling on about cusps of Venus and how they would all be caught up in hot, torrid love affairs soon. She had simply turned to him with her bug-eyes and beamed at him.

_No, no! That is just **not right.**_He frowned then tried again. _Growl._ Nothing. He cleared his throat to try it once more. _Grrrowl._

"Oh, Severus," Trelawney smiled again, before launching into a new diatribe about his love life.

"So, Severus, as I was saying, before your drunkenness got in the way," Filius squeaked loudly as he could in a thinly-veiled attempt to distract him from hexing Trelawney.

Trelawney, who had the gall – the _gall_ – to then tell Severus he was simply "repressing all those _good, happy, loving _feelings inside", she could tell from "that warm, _lovely_ hug" he'd given her – _while under a bloody curse! - _and how he needed to "just feel the _love_".

"Stand aside, Fifi." Severus growled.

_Aha! There it is. I knew I had it in me,_ he thought triumphantly, pleased for a minute.

Then he remembered his vendetta against Trelawney, except that Filius had had the sense to forcibly drag her away in his moment of distraction, leaving him standing in the middle of the room rather awkwardly, catching the eyes of quite a few other members of staff.

_Well, this day is looking up so far,_ Severus thought wryly. _Now all I need is Minerva hovering over me and making her little insinuations and snarky comments. Oh, and perhaps a run in with Potter. Oh, that'll **really **make my day._ "Severus! There you are!" 

He turned to see Minerva McGonagall standing three feet behind him, a wide grin on her face, and promptly scowled.

_I take it back! _Severus thought desperately, even as he cast the darkest look he could muster at the woman. To her credit, she did not shrink away from the wrathful glare of the Potions Master, but instead simply chuckled. "Good day to you too, Severus."

"Minerva," he greeted politely and nodded stiffly, the scowl still planted on his face.

The Transfiguration teacher rolled her eyes. "Really, Severus. You must stop being so thrilled to see me, and control your gushing, its embarrassing me."

Severus allowed a smirk to pass over his features at her sarcasm. "I apologize, Minerva," he nodded. "But you'll forgive me if I'm not full of sunshine and kittens today. I'm trying to maintain my reputation, you see."

"What reputation?" Minerva let out a derisive snort as she pointedly looked at the sullen and unusually pale man. "And sunshine and kittens, indeed. Have you even ever _seen _sunshine and kittens, Severus?"

Severus leveled a glower at her, which she rather aggravatingly seemed indifferent to. "I'll have you know, Minerva, that I have indeed."

She seemed inclined make a scathing remark, when suddenly a wicked smile crossed her lips, sending a sudden thrill of horror straight to Severus' stomach, and he mentally stabilized himself for whatever damning remark that he was sure she would make.

"Ah, yes, how could I have forgotten?" Minerva grinned. "You've been seen out on the grounds lately -"

"Is there something you wanted, Minerva?" Severus hastily tried to interrupt her when he realized where she was leading, to no avail.

"-fraternizing with the students, if I recall correctly," she continued cheerfully, as if he hadn't said a single word. "Tell me, Severus, was it fun? I'll admit its been a long while since I've done anything of the sort, since my own schoolgirl days I believe. However I might be quite inclined to relive them, you've rather inspired me."

"I think, Minerva, that you should leave your schoolgirl days back where they belong," Severus said archly. "Back in the Middle Ages, if I were to hazard a guess."

She remained unfazed and smiled sweetly. "Tsk, tsk, Severus, spitefulness does not become you."

"Nor does conversation become you," Severus retorted wryly. "But I'm out of luck, it seems."

She gave him that saccharin grin again, and Severus was left wondering why, of all the rotten luck in the world, he had been saddled with colleagues who were so damn _happy_.

_It's a bloody conspiracy._

_And knowing my luck,_ he sighed darkly, _I'm cursed with them for all of damning eternity._

Several disheartening and overly cheerful conversations with his colleagues later, Severus slunk down to the dungeons, damning the awful waste of time – and brain cells, he thought snidely – that were Saturday morning staff meetings. _Oh, wait a minute, that's right, I can't call them that anymore, Albus thinks it decreases morale, they are 'get-togethers' to foster teamwork and cooperation and friendship and all that vitriol._

He barricaded his Floo access the second he got into his rooms, and threw up his wards, before settling down to grade papers. He made it through eighteen very unfortunate second years' essays on his disgruntlement alone, and only decided to stop when he noticed he was about to tell a Hufflepuff that his essay was "something worthy of the drivel created by Harry Potter" – _damned child would probably take it as a compliment to be compared to H – Potter._

Grr. Potter again.

Just then he heard someone outside his door snap out the passwords impatiently, and then his door was promptly flung open and the tall, platinum blonde, arrogant form of Draco Malfoy strode in.

* * *

AN: (runs and hides, then points to lecturers) _BLAME THEM! It's all **their** fault! I've been overburdened with work, and sleepless nights, but voila, I present you with another chapter (even if its incredibly late)!_

_Too tired to ramble, so just visit my LJ and a massive orgy of THANK YOUs to:  
**leeleepotter; Tazthedevilman; Pris; driven to insanity; Miki23; LythTaeraneth; kittylover16; ataraxis; penny, Lain-Iris; Ishy; Maggie; Somnia Lustre** and **SofiaDragon **for all being so incredibly, incredibly, incredibly wonderful and (hopefully) patient and just the bestest reviewers with the nicest comments! I'm so sorry for the wait, I hope, as always, that it was worth it, and shuck the blame off onto my lecturers, really. grin_

_And just to note - Snarry interaction will be on its way in a couple of chapters, do not fret. Ah, and the next chapter with Draco is my favorite chapter that I've written so far. beams And it is **actually** written, so it **really** wont take as long to be posted. Promise. Now **review**?_


	5. Draco Lucius Malfoy! Part One

**Disclaimer: **_No, no, no. Do you see the Harry Potter characters having group orgies? No? There you go._

**"You Can Ride My Broomstick Any Day, Harry"  
**by** juxtaposed**

****

**Chapter Five: _Draco Lucius Malfoy!_ Part One**

"Sev," he greeted brusquely as the door swung back shut, and stood relatively unfazed as Severus' wand was aimed at his throat. "Ah, you know, Sev, in some cultures they consider it rude to attack a guest before any ill intention is indicated."

Severus glowered at him from his seat, not moving his arm. "Draco Lucius Malfoy, I know you are _much_ better bred than to enter a person's room without knocking, and I know you are much smarter than to enter _my_ room without knocking." He lowered his wand and folded his hands on his table. "Now, what do you want? Or did you just _barge_ into my room to have a nice little chat."

"I figured you'd know it was me," Draco shrugged. "Not many other people know your password."

"Which I am sorely regretting ever giving to you," Severus muttered.

Draco ignored him and continued talking as if Severus hadn't said a word. "And yes, as a matter of fact, I did rather fancy a nice afternoon chat with my favorite godfather. You know, it being the weekend and all."

"Your _only_ godfather." Severus rolled his eyes when Draco gave him the most charming look he could manage. Which _was _very charming, him being a Malfoy and all, but Severus had had too much experience and knew how to see past it. "Oh, don't pull that face with me, you know it doesn't get you anywhere."

"Couldn't hurt to try," Draco grinned, who remained completely undeterred by Severus' gruff mannerisms. He was now the fourth person in less than twenty-four hours – _fourth!_ – who had acted as such, and it was rather disconcerting. They were behaving as if he weren't a horrible, evil, homicidal ex-spy, and he was decidedly disgruntled at that fact.

_Damn it, I'm losing my touch._

Draco seemed to know what Severus was thinking, and let out a chuckle of sorts, not even bothering to hide it. Severus was beginning to feel rather irked that so many people had begun to take liberties when dealing with him.

_I'm supposed to be **fearsome**, damnit!_

Sure, he was talking about his godson, his mentor, and two of his closest friends, none of which particularly had any reason to be afraid of him, even when he gave them his most malevolent glare, because they all knew he wouldn't really harm them, and they knew, though he'd rather die than admit it, that he cared about them.

_But honestly. They treat me like a fluffy little puppy dog._

Severus snorted at the mental image of him as a large, friendly Golden Retriever.

_I should never have turned back to the Light. They wouldn't assume I'm so cuddly if I hadn't done so. Hell, even Black got to be a Grim. I ought to be something much more terrifying._

He changed his mental visual from the Golden Retriever, to a Rottweiler.

_Much better._

Then he realized what he was doing, and cursed himself.

_I'm imagining myself as a canine. I must have had **much** more alcohol than I realized._

Meanwhile, Draco was staring at him with no small amount of confusion, curiosity and concern on his face. "Sev?" he ventured. "Are you alright? You look a little…out of it."

_Ah, so **now** he's polite._ Severus thought dryly. '_Out of it' indeed. We both know I've become a raving lunatic._

"I'm fine, Draco," Severus sighed heavily. "Things have just been…" _Fucked up_. "A little complicated."

Draco let out a snort. "No shit. You've obviously been hitting the old Firewhiskey, and for the past couple of days you've been acting…" Draco shrugged. "Rather like you've had the best shag of your life, really." His eyes suddenly lit with realizations. "You _have_, haven't you?"

Severus was much too hung over to be processing Draco's words. "I have, what?" He prepared to launch into his suspicion of Harry, as he had been longing to do for the entire morning, when his godson scoffed at him.

"_Shagged_, you prat. You've shagged someone."

Now. Alcohol is a substance well-known for slowing down one's reaction, and the more of it you consume, the slower you react. And Severus had drunk a _lot_. As such, before he realized what Draco was saying, he was still on his initial roll of blaming the Boy-Who-Lived, and what came out as an apparent reply to Draco's words was,

"It was H – Potter."

Draco gaped at him silently, jaw dropping open, mouth opening and closing wordlessly, like a fish. It was during this silence that the blonde's words finally made it into Severus' brain, and he choked.

They reacted at the same time.

Draco snapped out of his stupor, exploding at his godfather_. "What?"_

Severus was panicking, and jumped out of his seat. _"No!"_

It was a blur of words, yells and horrified looks from there.

"Potter?" 

"I didn't -"

"You shagged _Potter?_"

"- hear what you said, I -"

"Merlin, Sev!"

"- didn't, I was trying to blame -"

"_Potter?_"

_"Draco!"_

It was obviously going nowhere, and Severus simply gave up trying to explain and instead he grabbed his godson by the shoulders, shaking him slightly as he looked him in the eye.

"Draco, _no_. I most certainly am not shagging H – Potter!"

Draco was still staring at him wide-eyed. Severus sighed deeply in resignation. "Really, Draco, I give you my word, I am not shagging him."

"T-Then w-why -" Draco stammered uncharacteristically, then hesitated, unable to complete his question.

"As you noted, Draco, I've been drinking, and as such, my reaction and its timing was rather…impaired."

"Oh," Draco said, almost meekly, as he tried to resolve the whole thing in his mind. "So…you're not shagging Potter?"

"Most certainly not," Severus huffed, reluctant to admit to himself that part of his huffiness was the very fact that he was, indeed, _not_ shagging Harry, and merely told himself that it was the suggestion that he would, that had left him appalled.

The young Slytherin before him let out a sigh of relief, and visibly relaxed. "Damn. That would have been hot."

Huh. Perhaps it wasn't relief, or relaxation after all. In fact, it looked suspiciously like –

"Damn," Draco sighed again, then paused. "Well, I suppose it might have been _vaguely_ creepy, since you're my godfather and all, but…two attractive wizards together…both tall, dark and handsome…be still, my penis."

_"Draco Lucius Malfoy!"_ Severus took the few seconds he spent gaping at his godson to register what said godson had said. "Wait. You think we're attractive?"

"Oh, come off it, Sev. You don't honestly believe all that 'great greasy git' nonsense that the other students spout off, do you?" He rightly took the older wizard's silence for agreement, and sighed. "Merlin, Sev. You're hardly ugly, you just don't present yourself well." He paused thoughtfully. "Kind of like Potter, actually. He's cute, but doesn't seem to give a damn about how he looks, so its not obvious. Of course, at least he doesn't intentionally drown himself in Potions or scowl at everyone to scare them from taking a second look." He said the last part with a pointed look at his godfather, who was indeed wearing a scowl at that very moment.

"Y-you think Potter is…'_cute'?_" Severus couldn't keep the shock out of his voice.

Draco gave a careless shrug. "Well, yeah. Don't you?"

"I – well, I – that is hardly an appropriate thing to ask me," Severus snapped. Then a thought occurred to him, as all the things Draco had been spouting off finally clicked into place. "Wait, Draco – are you _gay?_"

"As Gilderoy Lockhart." Severus stared at Draco, who stared back at him. "I thought you knew."

"Obviously, I didn't." Draco snorted. Severus looked anxiously at his godson. "Why have you never told me?"

"I figured you'd figure it out. I mean, its pretty obvious, so I thought you'd have spot it by now. The whole it-takes-one-to-know-one, gaydar thing."

Draco's comment struck him. "What do you mean, it takes one to…oh. You're aware of my…_preferences_…as well?"

The blonde gave him a look that made it very clear that he was being very stupid about the whole thing, and a weak "Oh" was all he managed, as he sunk back down into his chair.

"So," Draco began. "Potter."

Severus startled. "What?"

Draco gave him a questioning look. "Potter. You said his name." At Severus' blink, he rolled his silver eyes skyward. "I assume there's a reason he was brought up, even if he's not the one you've been shagging."

"I assure you, he is not." He paused, then realized how it might be construed, and hastily added, "I am not shagging_ anyone_."

"Pity, that. It'd do you a world of good." Draco said flippantly, ignoring his godfather's scowl and mused aloud. "So I guess Potter's on the market after all…too bad he's a Gryffindor."

"You mean, you – you would? With Potter?"

"I wouldn't mind. He'd be more than a decent catch, as soon as he got cleaned up a little…a lot. And I bet he'd be a _demon_ in bed. Don't you think?"

Severus sputtered. "I - He – I do not wish to pursue this topic with you, Draco. Surely you have more appropriate candidates to discuss the attractiveness or sexual prowess of other students?"

"Oh, but none of them are as fun as you, Sev." Draco looked at him in scrutiny. "You know, you rather overreact every time I mention Potter."

"I do not!" Severus immediately defended himself.

Draco fixed him with a look. "Sure you're not." He paused then asked, "Does this have anything to do with what you said to him yesterday?"

"No!" Severus yelped. "That was…it didn't mean anything!"

Draco snickered at his behavior, when a look of realization suddenly dawned on his fine features, and he stared at Severus. "Oh my god."

"What?" Severus eyed the other Slytherin warily, not liking the triumphant expression on his face.

"You fancy Potter!" Draco pronounced, eyes glimmering wildly.

_There should be a law against that sort of thing. Honestly._

Severus put on a most indignant expression. "I do _not -_"

"Don't deny it, Sev. I can tell," Draco shushed him, and then a grin, almost maniacal in its glee, crossed his lips. "Merlin! I can't believe you fancy Potter!"

Severus saw no point in arguing any further, and sighed despondently, then words began to tumble out of his mouth. "What does it matter if I do? He's the bloody epitome of a perfect Gryffindor, and the savior of the damn world, and he's twenty fucking years younger than me."

It was most unusual for Severus to be so forthright with his thoughts and emotions, and they both knew it. Draco simply blinked at the older man, who was immediately alarmed. The alcohol must have left him more uninhibited than he'd thought, for him to have had spoken the way he had, he realized with a groan.

_Note to self: Do not consume so much goddamned alcohol._

However, the damage was done, and now Draco was staring at him with that perfectly arched brow – sweet Merlin, did he _pluck_ them? Severus wondered, trying not to shudder at how _flamboyant _Draco was about his lifestyle – raised curiously.

Sighing heavily, he conjured up a chair and gestured to Draco to sit in it. After casting a charm to turn it into a tasteful leather chaise, Draco obliged, ignoring the look Severus was giving him. "I'm gay," he declared, as he arranged himself neatly on the seat, "and will not be ashamed to say that my arse is much too delicate to be subjected to generic vinyl." He gave Severus a look that was at once speculative and disapproving. "You really ought to develop better taste, Sev, if you want to pull a gay man. _Honestly._ If I weren't fairly sure of the fact that you know your way around a good co- "

"Draco Lucius Malfoy, cease and desist _at once!"_ Horrified, Severus hurried to cut him off before he could complete that train of thought.

Draco smirked.

Severus' fingers sought out his temple.

_It's going to be a **very** long day._

__

* * *

AN: _Well, here we go. The next chapter, up as promised. And only after a week! Aren't you all impressed? And now for the bad news: all my major projects are due within the next few weeks, so don't expect anything til at least mid-November. Oh, and not to mention I am stupidly participating in NaNoWriMo, even when I have no time. _

_Anyway, I hope you all liked this chapter, it was one of the most fun I've had writing. I know most of you are awaiting Snarry interaction, and Harry's POV. Well, Harry's POV comes next chapter, and Snarry goodness soon after. **I promise.**_

_Thank you to all my reviewers, you make the sun go round the earth, haha. _:)_ But I honestly do love you all! And because I missed out doing responses the last time:  
**Magdelena** - (smooch) glad you liked it love! Draco rocks!**; LythTaeraneth** - I hope Draco lived up to your expectations**; Lychee2** - yes, the spell has worn off, as of the beginning of this story. (grin)**; sigh** - um, I hope my chapters are worth waiting for (hopeful grin), and that this one tides you over**; Kynny** - sorry to make you choke! (grin)**; Harco Potfoy** - don't worry, at least you reviewed the last chapter! LoL. Glad you like this!**; Pris** - that's what I'm hoping for anyway (grin). Was that German?**; ataraxis **- (beams) Thank you! Hope you liked Draco!**Somnia Lustre** - sorry! Harry is coming up though, promise. I just have too much fun torturing Sev. _:)_ But hang around for the next chapter!**; Miki23** - not quite yet, but soon. I promise__**;  
Ishy; wickedwizard4eva; musicgirl141; valanthe **and **FyreBird - **Thank you all so much! Hope you continue enjoying my humble, insane little story._

_Now, you know the drill - kindly **review**, to sustain me through my long sleepless nights of slogging through my assignments._ :)


	6. Very Good Sidekicks

_Disclaimers, warnings, rating, pairings, summary - all found previously._

_I apologize for the long wait! Hope this satisfies!_

**Chapter Six: Very Good Sidekicks**

****

_It's going to be a very long day_, Harry sighed to himself.

It had begun with him being awakened from the midst of an entirely pleasant dream, one that left him making excuses to Ron as to why he was taking so damn long to get up.

"I _am_ up," Harry had growled at last, wishing that it wasn't much too true for his liking. "I am very much _up_."

Ron had finally seemed to get the hint, as he had snorted in amusement before trotting down to breakfast with Hermione.

"He's _handling_ a problem," Harry heard Ron say to Hermione outside their door. "He'll be down soon enough."

"Oh dear," Hermione said, sounding anxious. "Should we be leaving him alone then? Does he need our help?"

Ron, trying very hard not to laugh, had then said, "No, no, I don't think he'd want us involved. Anyhow, I suspect it's a very _small_ problem."

Harry vowed very solemnly to hex Ronald Weasley the next time he saw him.

For the moment, he settled himself to dealing with the matter at hand.

_Goddamn double entendres_, he groaned, as he slid a fist down into his pants.

The memory of his stirring dream came back to him: long dark hair brushing his skin; soft lips trailing over his body; slim, elegant fingers stroking him; and a rich, deep voice murmuring his name…

* * *

"Harry Potter!"

Harry jerked, coming back to reality as his wide green eyes locked onto narrowed onyx ones. Uncomfortably familiar eyes, at that. _Gods, no…_

"P-Professor Snape!"

"Very good, Potter. I'm glad to see you've mastered my name." The man in question raised a dark eyebrow and – swayed? Harry took a good look at his professor.

_Merlin, is he drunk **again**?_

"Yes, Sir," Harry nodded cautiously. The effects of his prank would have worn out by now, so he didn't quite dare to provoke the man.

However, this was not a problem.

Because apparently, Snape had decided to be the provocative one.

"Hmm. 'Yes, Sir'? Yes, yes, that's good. Keep practicing that, Potter. It'll come in useful one day, if I have my way with you." He leveled Harry with a slightly unfocused smirk. "Now please step aside, you're blocking the corridor."

There was at least two feet on either side of Harry, but he suddenly realized that he had been daydreaming in the middle of the hallway. Obligingly he stepped aside.

"The next time you so callously obstruct a walkway, I'll have to punish you, Potter." Another smirk crossed Snape's face. "Of course, you just might enjoy it."

Harry gaped at his very obviously drunk Potions professor, and blushed.

"That's a fetching look on you, Potter. Now, be off with you, then. I have a meeting to attend. Damn Albus and his cockamamie schemes."

And then he had strutted off, occasionally bobbing from side to side, leaving a very confused – and embarrassingly aroused- Harry Potter in his wake.

_Let's face it – I'm officially insane. Who else on earth would get a hard-on from Snape? Especially a drunk Snape who was berating and – waitaminute, did he just **flirt**__with me? _

Thoughts flooded his head and blood flooded his groin at the prospect.

_No! No more fantasizing about him_, he told himself firmly, _especially when walking down to breakfast, _as he hurried off to the nearest bathroom for the second time in an hour, adjusting his robes as he went.

_Oh yeah. It's definitely going to be a very long day_, he sighed again, as he zipped himself up and washed his hands.

The very-long-ness of his day continued with Hermione fretting over him the instant he walked into the hall, while an unrepentant Ron failed in stifling his laughter.

"Harry! Are you alright? You took absolute _ages_ to finally come, I was about to go and look for you – I know Ron says its just a small matter, but I mean, if it took you so long to deal with the problem, it must have been pretty hard," Hermione said in a rush, looking Harry over anxiously.

Harry smiled reassuringly at her, even as he wanted to hit his head on the table for all of her unintended puns. Actually, no_ – _he wanted to hit _Ron_, who was now full out chortling.

"Yeah, I'd say it must have been _hard_, mate," Ron laughed.

Harry glared at his supposed best friend and renewed his vow.

"Was it really, Harry?" Hermione asked, looking at him with wide, innocent eyes. Harry flushed, which she seemed to take as a yes. "Oh, well, I don't mean to sound like a blowhard, but why didn't you just ask me to help? I mean, I normally get right to the root of the problem and solve it, don't I? I think I would have done a good job -"

"Hermione, for the love of all things holy, please do not continue," Harry cut her off pleadingly. Taking in her hurt look, he hastily added, "You're absolutely right of course, you're the smartest of us all, I just – I suppose I don't want to feel bad for not asking you."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione sighed affectionately. "You should always just ask when you have a problem. Ron and I are always here to help you, arent we, Ron?"

Ron choked on his own laughter. "Whazzit? Ugh. Uh, I mean, yeah. Yeah, mate. We're here to help. Just, you know. Within limits."

Harry saw his opportunity to wreak a little vengeance. "Limits?" he repeated innocently.

Hermione smacked Ron on the shoulder. "Ron! We don't put limits on our helping Harry!" And to Harry she continued, "We'll do anything and everything to help you, Harry."

"Thank you, Hermione," Harry smiled sweetly at her. "So if anything like this morning ever comes up again-?"

"Oh, of course. And if it happens early and I'm not around, just ask Ron, he'll be glad to help, wont you, Ron?" Hermione edged her voice with a silent threat.

Ron was turning a funny shade of purple as he choked out, "Erkh. Sure. I'd be…glad."

"That's great, Ron!" Harry grinned, ignoring his friend's evil eyeballing. "I'll be sure to call on you the next time anything like this _arises_."

As Ron fell face down into his porridge, Harry felt a sudden thrill of joy.

_Well. The day is looking up after all._

In the afternoon, he had gone with Ron and Hermione out onto the grounds for a tea picnic to relax, except that for reasons unknown, Draco Malfoy had decided to follow them out and was rather blatantly watching them. More specifically, watching Harry. And there was a look in his eyes that made Harry uncomfortable.

"Is there something wrong with me today?" he asked anxiously, fiddling with the knot of his tie, rendering it askew. Hermione tsked at him and smacked his hand away before reaching up and adjusting it.

"Yes, your tie is mangled, let me get it for you – Harry, stop it, let me – Harry!" Hermione threw her arms up in frustration. "Fine. Walk around with your horribly knotted tie, see if I care."

"Thersh noching rongh wiff oo, 'arree," Ron said through a mouthful of egg-and-salmon sandwich. He ignored Hermione's wails that she was stuck with such uncouth males, really, hadn't they any decency at all, answering Harry's original question instead.

Hermione made one final attempt to fix Harry's tie. "Just let me get that – no, stop fiddling – Harry – argh!" She sighed heavily and resigned herself to taking delicate bites out of her own tuna sandwich.

Ron smiled a eggy smile. "Well, maybe your tie is a little crooked."

Hermione made a distinctive choking noise around her food.

Harry frowned, narrowing his eyes at the figure leaning on a nearby tree. "Is that why Malfoy's staring at me? Am I offending his delicate fashion sense or something?"

Ron snorted, and a small bit of pink fish landed in Hermione's hair. "Sorhry, 'ermyohn," he mumbled to the aggrieved girl, picking out the salmon. "Oo nyows, mate." He swallowed, much to Hermione's relief, and chuckled. "Maybe he's interested in you."

There was a brief moment of silence, where they all stared at each other, contemplating the possibility. Then another moment of silence, in which they all simultaneously turned to face Draco Malfoy. Who was dressed impeccably in undoubtedly finely-tailored clothes with his hair perfectly styled to be casually elegant, and who was indeed staring appraisingly at Harry. One more moment of silence where they glanced at each other again. Finally, they all avoided looking each other in the eye and attempted to dispel the notion - rather unconvincingly.

"Of course not," Hermione said briskly to her sandwich, although it was very weak.

"There's no way," Harry protested feebly, cleaning his glasses.

"I was just joking," Ron mumbled into his goblet of pumpkin juice.

They all resumed their picnic awkwardly. Near the end of it, Hermione stood up and announced she was going to the library, then told Harry he was going with her.

"What?" Harry blinked, looking at her in bewilderment. "But – its _Saturday_, Hermione. And Ron and I never get started on homework till Sunday evening."

"Don't get her started, mate," Ron hissed urgently.

"Yes, don't get me started on that," Hermione glowered. "But this isnt for homework. I was wondering about those spells you did the other day for the -" She glanced at Malfoy and lowered her voice. "The prank."

"Oh," Harry sighed. "That."

"Oh, that! Brilliant. As I have absolutely nothing to do with it, I will remain here and finish our meal," Ron declared cheerfully.

"Thanks so much, Ron," Harry said dryly. "Great support you are."

"Oh, alright then. Hermione, leave him alone. He deserves to rest, the poor old boy. What with saving the world many times over and all that." Ron said flippantly.

Harry brought his hands to his temples.

"You know, Potter, you do a good impression of Professor Snape," an all-too-familiar voice said.

"Good day to you too, Malfoy," Harry greeted pointedly. "Nice of you to interrupt our conversation without so much as a hello."

Draco waved him off. "Greetings like that are so…commonplace."

"Yes, because its common practice," said Ron. "Perhaps you've heard of the term 'good manners'?"

"Yes. I just don't believe in them," Draco said pleasantly.

"I'm not surprised."

Draco ignored him to look at Harry again. "So, Potter, what are your sidekicks saying to you, that make you do such a wonderful impersonation of my esteemed godfather?"

"What?" Harry blinked.

"We're not his sidekicks," Hermione muttered almost inaudibly, but they all heard her.

"Yes you are." Draco smiled patronizingly.

"We kind of are," Ron shrugged.

"You're very _good_ sidekicks," Harry mumbled appreciatively.

Hermione's eye twitched. She chose to ignore it.

"Who did you say your godfather was?" she asked Draco instead.

"Severus? Professor Snape. Perhaps you've seen him? Tall, dark, billowing, glares like he hasn't had sex in years – well, that's probably true, actually – and -"

"I've always wondered how long exactly it'd been," Hermione said thoughtfully.

"I don't want to think about him having sex," Ron sighed and made a face. "Or think about you thinking about him having sex."

"Well, I would think he'd be good at it," Draco spoke up, watching Harry carefully as he said this. "Or he would have been back when he used to have it."

Harry coughed, turning an interesting shade of crimson.

"Eurgh," Ron shuddered. "I don't want to know how you know, Malfoy."

"Well, he's so damn meticulous about Potions, do you think he'd be any less so with sex?" Hermione pointed out, earning a horrified squeak from Ron. "I bet the foreplay would be amazing."

"And he does have very large hands," Harry murmured.

Ron clapped his hands over his ears and began to rock back and forth. "I did not hear that I did not hear that I did not hear that I did not -"

"Oh, for goodness' sakes, Ron." Hermione rolled her eyes, which stopped halfway then snapped to Harry. "Wait - Harry – did you say what I think I heard you say?"

"Erk," went Harry, who suddenly realized his faux pas.

"If it was that Severus has very large hands, then I heard it too," Draco volunteered.

"Agh."

"-did not hear that I did not hear -"

"Oh, for – Ron! Do shut up."

"Now, why on earth are you noticing how large Severus' hands are, Potter?"

Much to his horror, Harry felt his mouth open and heard himself respond, "Well, you know what they say about guys with large hands, and -" _Shut it!_ His brain yelled, and his mouth finally obeyed, only opening again to deliver a choked, "Nyaag."

He blinked at them anxiously.

Ron looked suspiciously like he was about to vomit slugs. Hermione looked like she didn't know whether to laugh or be horrified. And Draco…

Draco looked positively delighted.

_

* * *

_

_Er - I must apologize againfor the insanely long wait. Life has been sort of insane around these parts, plus I had the worst case of writer's block ever. I'm not sure if anyone's even still reading anymore, but if you are, thank you for sticking it out! I hope the story is still enjoyable and I promise to write more as soon as I can._

_Thank you thank you thank you thank you so so so much! to:_ Kynny; Miki23; sigh...now grinning; Fireblade K'Chona; Maggie; Lychee2; ataraxis; Kiwi Tree; Somnia Lustre; Mithykyl; harmonybunny; Black Crystall Draygon;Pris; JA;LythTaeraneth; Teya the amazing; i'drathernotsay; Tinkering; thistle; Amanda Saitou; Andais; Tavington's-neice; Ishy; Insert Bad Cliche Here; zuvalupa; penny, valanthe; Cattatra; witch; BaYer04rulz; willowtree16; abraxis; SofiaDragon; not-yet-written; _and _ceris_ for all the amazing and amusing and kind reviews!_

_If you'd like to harass me for more /read stuff that I forget to post on FFNet / view fanart, you can do so at my LJ (the address is in my profile). Do leave me a note if you're there! I'm friendly and dont bite._


	7. Of Bottoms and Ballet Slippers

**AN:** Officially an AU after HBP, and no spoilers thusfar.  
**AN:** Got it up quicker this time. :) Enjoy!

**Chapter Seven - Of Bottoms and Ballet Slippers**

Harry tried to ignore the wide, _cheerful _– honestly, Draco Malfoy being cheerful was both confusing and terrifying, and in Harry's opinion, absolutely uncalled for – grin on Draco's face.

Draco didn't make it easy.

"Well, Potter, I didn't think you were the sort to notice another man's hands." Still flashing his perfectly straight – the _only_ straight thing Draco had going, Harry thought wryly – teeth, Draco held up his own pale, smooth, manicured hands. "So what do you think about mine?"

"They're tiny," Harry snapped. "Go away."

"Ooh, bitchy. Feisty little thing, aren't you? And _tiny_, Potter? I'll have you know the word is _petite_, and I am anything _but_. In fact, I could prove to you right now -" Draco's hands dropped to his belt.

There came a faint gurgling sound, and a loud thump. Harry turned to see Ron collapsed on the ground, hands clutching desperately at his chest.

"Ron!" Hermione immediately knelt by his side.

Ron let out a strangled scream, clawing at his eyes. "No!"

"No, what?" Harry blinked, mildly panicked.

"Don't…don't let him!" Ron pleaded, whimpering, peering out from behind his hands. "Don't let him drop his pants."

Harry turned to see Draco looking very offended. His hands were still resting on his belt buckle, and he scowled at Ron. "And what, exactly, would be wrong with me doing so? It's a thing of beauty, nothing to be ashamed of, Weasley. Even if yours might be. Mine certainly _isn't._" As if looking to prove his point, Draco tugged firmly at his belt.

As Ron let out another shriek, it occurred to Harry that maybe he was taking a little too long in objecting to Draco's oncoming exhibitionism.

He stepped forward to Draco and caught his arm. "Malfoy, stop. It's not good for Ron's health." Behind him, Ron gave a supportive groan.

Draco eyed Harry's hand on his wrist, precariously close to his groin. "Well, I'm sure _you_ have no objections, so you could do it for me," he purred. "You look like you're about to, anyway." Following Draco's gaze, Harry noted where his hand was, and yanked it away with a yelp.

"Uh – no. No, no," Harry shook his head vehemently, eyes wide open. "No, no, _no_. There will be none of that here."

"Well, then, meet me in the dungeons later, and -"

"NO!" Harry squawked as Draco raised his eyebrows suggestively. "That's not what I meant!"

Draco actually_ pouted_. "Spoilsport."

Ron raised his arm from where he was still sprawled on the ground. "Hey, a little more attention here? And a _lot_ less talk of shagging and such?"

Draco gave him a speculative look. "No dirty talk for you, Weasley? Poor Granger, she doesn't know what she's missing out on."

Ron shot him a dark look as he sat up, and Hermione pursed her lips. "I beg to differ, Malfoy," she said easily.

"Shut up, Malfoy – _what?_" Ron whirled to give her a curiously horrified look. "What? With who?" he demanded.

Sensing trouble, Harry hurried to clap his hand over Hermione's mouth before she could reply. "I don't think any of us really want to hear the answer to that," he said nervously.

"Speak for yourself, Potter. _I'm_ keen to know who got Granger all hot and bothered under her robes. Ooh, did you wear your Head Girl badge, Granger?" Draco looked genuinely interested. "Was it some kinky little role-playing thing?"

All three of them stared at him. Harry's hand suddenly became dead weight and fell away from Hermione's face. In the background, the Giant Squid stopped thrashing about.

"Because, you know, I've always been interested in trying that out," Draco continued, oblivious – or perhaps all too aware of, you never knew with him – their gobsmacked appearances. He made a show of fingering his own Head Boy badge. "I imagine it would be _wicked_, bossing someone around. Or maybe the other way around. I could surrender myself over and -"

"That's enough!" Ron yelped, his face as red as his hair. "We really don't need to listen to your sordid little fantasies, Malfoy."

Hermione and Harry took a little while longer to cough and voice their agreement. Harry noticed that Hermione had that look on her face, the one she got when she was making mental notes.

He couldn't blame her – he'd had many a fantasy of being…_disciplined_ by Snape. In the Potions lab. Bent over Snape's desk. Usually with his pants down by his ankles –

A polite cough from Hermione brought him back to the present, where he was suddenly forced to think bad, bad thoughts about Hagrid and the now-splashing-about-again Giant Squid in the Lake, as he shoved his hands into his pockets to disguise the growing bulge. "I'm sorry, was just – what did you say?"

Draco smirked at him. "Sickle for your thoughts, Potter. They certainly look interesting," he said, with a pointed glance at Harry's crotch. Harry suppressed a squeak and fidgeted.

"Malfoy, do you even have a reason for being here?" Hermione asked suddenly, gaining Harry's eternal gratitude as he moved to stand in a less revealing position. "Or do you just make it part of your daily activities to annoy us?"

Draco blinked. "Well, there is that," he admitted. "It's an oath I took, back in First Year. But this was more of a social call."

"Wait, an oath?" Ron repeated in disbelief. "You took an oath?"

"Oh, yes," Draco nodded. "All Slytherin First Years have to swear, upon their little Slytherin hearts, that they will torment all do-gooder Gryffindors on a regular basis, in order to uphold the name of Salazar Slytherin. He made it a point to piss off Godric at least once a week, you know," he added, smiling fondly.

"An oath," Harry said. "They take an oath to torment us."

Draco reached out and patted Harry lightly on the cheek. "Yes. Yes we do. Do try and keep up now, dear."

"You're a sadist," Harry accused him.

Far from looking offended, Draco actually preened. "Right down to the very last drop of evil goodness, thank you for noticing."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione simultaneously dropped their faces into their palms.

"Malfoy," Hermione huffed, obviously starting to lose patience. "Social call, you said?"

Draco sighed. "You Gryffindors. Always rushing everything. Foreplay is important, you know."

Ron choked. "F-foreplay? What?"

Draco looked pityingly at Hermione. "No wonder you're so tense."

"I meant," Ron scowled pointedly, "What are we having foreplay for now? You – that is, we – there isn't going to be any shagging after this!"

"Not with _that_ attitude," Draco sniffed.

"You know what? I don't really care to hear anything you have to say, Malfoy, it obviously cant be that important if you've had time to torment Ron, proposition me, and ask for details about Hermione's sex life," Ron made another choked noise, which Harry was getting used to and thus ignored, "So either say it now, or leave."

Draco arched an eyebrow. "Well, I can see why you're the Hero of the Wizarding World. Very authoritative. I approve," he nodded once at Harry, who frowned. "I bet you're a top."

Ron wrinkled his forehead in confusion, Harry gaped at Draco, and Hermione looked at Harry speculatively. "Actually, I think he'd bottom."

Ron's entire face was twisted in bewilderment now, Harry had transferred his shell-shocked expression over to Hermione, and Draco was the one eyeing Harry in speculation. "Yeah, maybe, but still, he's very aggressive -"

"Definitely a bottom," Hermione said firmly. Harry scowled at her.

"What?" he demanded. "I'd _so_ top."

"Nuh-uh," Hermione shook her head, giving him one of her infuriatingly knowing smiles. "Bottom." Before he could argue, she continued. "_Pushy_ bottom, but definitely a bottom."

Draco snapped his fingers. "Pushy bottom! You're absolutely right, Granger."

"I'm a top!" Harry was yelling, but hesitated slightly. "Wait, there's such a thing as a pushy bottom?"

"You're living proof," Hermione said archly.

Harry ignored the barb. "Huh. That does sound intriguing…so its almost as if I'm topping, just from the bottom…"

"Definitely a pushy bottom," Draco nodded at Hermione. "Good call."

Ron finally snapped. "Will someone explain what the bloody blazes you're all talking about?" Hermione, taking pity, leaned over and whispered a few words into Ron's ear, which promptly turned a bright red along with the rest of his face, before dissolving into an unhealthy pallor. "Oh," he said weakly. "I see. I…I'm just going to sit down now."

"You_ are_ sitting down," Draco reminded him.

"Oh," Ron said again. "So I am. Well. I'm just going to try and burn my brain then."

"So are you ever going to tell us what exactly you wanted to tell us, Malfoy?" Harry asked, feeling only slightly sorry for Ron, whom he was still ticked off with for earlier that morning. "With no digressions this time."

Draco paused, taking them all in, settling his eyes on Harry for a long moment. He seemed to be thinking something over, before he suddenly broke into a wide, charming grin. "No, actually I think I shan't," he said cheerily, and skipped away.

Harry, Ron and Hermione stared after him.

"Is it just me," Hermione wondered aloud, "or is Draco _skipping?"_

"Not just you," Harry told her. "…Is he wearing _ballet slippers?"_

"Please burn my brain," Ron whimpered.

* * *

"What do you want now, Draco?" Severus growled, when Draco pranced into his room that evening. "And kindly do refrain from prancing so. It's – disturbing, to say the least. And - dear god, child, are you wearing _ballet slippers?"_

"They're comfortable, and in season," Draco sniffed haughtily, as he settled himself into his transfigured chair. "And you ought to be more polite, you know."

"I see no reason to alter years of habit," Severus drawled in return. "And those slippers are _pink_."

"In season," Draco said staunchly then continued, "Well, how about the fact that I'm your favorite godson," he ignored Severus' snort, "and I have been studiously doing research on your behalf?"

Severus narrowed his eyes. Draco smiled charmingly. Severus narrowed his eyes further. "Research."

"Research," affirmed Draco.

"On what?" Severus frowned. "I didn't ask you to conduct any -"

"I know whether Potter tops or bottoms," Draco interjected with a sing-song voice.

Severus willed his expression to remain unchanged, gritting his teeth. "And you believe I have interest in that information?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Please, Sev. We've been through this part. You fancy Potter. Yes, he's younger and famous and all that, but you fancy him anyway. I don't blame you; he does have quite the arse on him. Just begs to be spanked, or licked, or -"

"While I agree with your sentiments, do you have a point to this ode to Potter's arse, Draco?" Severus sighed, rubbing his temple.

Draco blinked. "Oh, yes. Of course. You fancy him. It's perfectly alright, and you don't need to lie to me. Besides, I rather think he fancies you too."

"Do you now – wait, really?" Severus looked up, interest alight in his dark eyes.

Draco smirked. "He notices your hands. He thinks they're large, and well, you know what they say about men with big hands…"

Severus choked. "You're joking. And he – he said that?"

Draco nodded, pleased at the reaction he had elicited from his godfather. "Also, Granger thinks you'd be wicked at foreplay," he added off-handedly.

"I've never thought they were particularly big…" Severus was musing aloud, holding out his hands to examine them, but paused. "Wait – Granger?"

"She's a closet sex fiend, that one," Draco said in a conspiratorial whisper. "I'd take up with her if I were, you know," he dropped his voice and wrinkled his nose as if saying a dirty word. "Straight."

"Granger," Severus repeated again flatly.

"She must put all her reading to good use, I think," Draco said thoughtfully. "She probably knows loads of kinky things to try out, and -" he noted the acerbic look on Severus' face. "Right, well. She was the one who figured out that Potter bottoms."

"She what? Wait, _he_ what?"

"He'll be a pushy bottom, but a bottom. And I guessed you're a top, so that all works out well, doesn't it?" Draco grinned cheerfully, waving his hands in what Severus felt were unnecessarily elaborate gestures, before bringing them together in what Severus felt was an unnecessarily accentuating clap. But he didn't make any snarky, belittling comments, because all things considered, he was suddenly in rather a gracious mood.

Which he tried to convince himself had nothing to do with the thought that Harry might be interested in him, might be interested in prostrating himself out on his bed, might be interested in having Severus possess him, having Severus thrust into his warm, lithe body, again and again and –

_No, nothing to do with that at all._

* * *

AN: _Loads and loads of thanks and love to those of you who read and enjoy (and especially if you review, hint hint):_

The Sarcastic Typo, iceditto, Katatonia, leeleepotter, Lychee2, Fireblade K'Chona, Pris, Tinkering, sami1010220, Moonsnoangel, skimmie, eyeinthesky, Naty, Crazy-Physco, Harco Potfoy, MysticSong1978, the penguins are coming (_cute nick!_), robindragon, Kynny, Charming Marauders, CleverWitch897, KaylaisEvenstar, Miss Plinks, Amanda Saitou, sbyamibakura, Iridescent Twilight, KamiCountD, The Greymallkin, Lady Darkness13, Hikari's-dark-side-08, Althea, Crimson Colored Cloaked Figure (_I think that was the most 'please's I've ever seen at once!_), SakuraYAvalon, moony-lupin-2, pen pencil whatever, GryffRavHuffSlythendor, Eagle-Eyes, valanthe, _and_ chris.

_love, juxtaposed_


	8. Bloody Horny, That's What

**Chapter Eight - Bloody Horny, That's What!**

_Yeah, right. _

Severus ignored the snarky, uncannily-Draco-sounding voice in his head.

_I have no interest in the brat's sexual behavior! _

After all, he was certainly not thinking of Harry's typical Gryffindor go-get-'em attitude, and how that might translate in the bedroom. And he was definitely not thinking about Harry demanding pleasure from him. Or about Harry pushing him down and just taking Severus in his mouth…

And his pants were most absolutely _not _too tight all of a sudden.

Severus shifted in his seat uncomfortably, immensely glad that he wore large, billowing robes.

Not that he needed the coverage, of course.

Or he wouldn't, if only his godson would just leave him alone for a couple of minutes.

"Draco!" he barked out. Draco looked at him questioningly. "As much as I appreciate your company, isn't there someplace else you need to be?"

Draco cocked his head, thinking for a moment. "No, not really."

"That was not so much a question as a very polite suggestion, Draco," Severus groaned.

"You don't do 'very polite', Sev," Draco pointed out.

Severus scowled.

"Oh, alright. Fine. I can take a hint. And well, it _is_ time for dinner, isn't it?" Draco stretched gracefully as he stood up. "I hear the House-Elves are serving sausages tonight. Imagine the possibilities!"

"I'll choose to ignore that remark," Severus muttered darkly. "I do not have particular need to know of your deviant inclinations. Just leave me be."

"Oh, come on, Severus. Like you'd want to miss the opportunity to see Potter with a thick, fat, meaty sausage between his lips?" Draco asked pointedly.

Severus paused. The thought certainly was tempting… He shook himself before he could lapse into a full-on fantasy. "Very well, I shall accompany you there, then. Although this has nothing – _nothing_ - to do with what you suggested."

Draco nodded sagely, that damnable smirk on his face. "Of course not."

Severus scowled, but waved his godson to the door ahead of him.

Not that he needed to…_settle_ himself first, of course.

Together, they made their way towards the Great Hall. In the corridor before it, a head of messy black hair was making its way round the corner.

"Oh, look who it is…Potter!" Draco called out, sneaking a smug grin at Severus. "Yoo-hoo!"

Ahead of them, Harry stopped dead in his tracks to spin around slowly. Severus gaped at his godson. "Did you just say 'yoo-hoo'?" he demanded in horror.

"Malfoy," Harry began, sounding rather strangled. "Did you just say 'yoo-hoo'?"

"Yes," Draco said breezily, skipping ahead to reach Harry.

"Is that in season too?" Severus asked darkly, billowing his way to them. Draco raised an imperious eyebrow, but Harry chuckled.

"Well, I can tell when I'm not wanted," Draco sniffed, and began to stalk off. "I'll just go see to those sausages."

Harry paused. "…I don't really want to know, do I."

"He's looking forward to watching the fanciable boys eat them," Severus explained, rolling his eyes.

"Oh. He's certainly – _open_ about his lifestyle preferences," Harry mused.

Severus snorted. "Gay as Gilderoy Lockhart."

Harry laughed.

Then they both suddenly realized that they were having a civil moment with each other.

"Er, right, well, I'll just – go," Harry stammered, trying to control where all his blood was rushing to. Honestly, what was wrong with him? Some amusing lines from Snape and one moment of camaraderie, and he was_ randy?_

"Potter, wait." Severus was horrified at the words that had escaped his mouth. He certainly enjoyed the moment with Harry, but what possible plausible reason could he employ to keep him there? Suddenly, horrifying moments of the past few days flashed into his mind, along with his vague suspicions.

"Yes, Professor?" Harry asked nervously. God, what was Snape trying to do to him? Could he tell that Harry was horny as hell? Was he about to be punished? He hoped so – he could do with a right proper spanking, _especially if it was from Snape, _he thought, and then found that he had to stop thinking about getting spanked by Snape and start thinking about how, exactly, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had produced seven children. He shuddered at the mental imagery.

Severus eyed Harry's trembling form. Was it a sign of guilt? _I'd like to make him shiver like that,_ he thought off-handedly, then reminded himself to stay on track. "As you know, I had a rather unusual disposition recently," he began.

"Yes," Harry nodded slowly, realizing where this was going, and hoping he didn't look guilty. "Um, I'm glad to see that you are no longer -" he paused, then did a fair imitation of Severus' drunken state, including the swaying.

"Yes," Severus leveled a scowl at Harry, who immediately straightened up, not trying very hard to disguise his amusement. "Although I meant the state before that one. I believe that I may have said some – inappropriate things to you at the time."

_You can ride my broomstick any day, Harry._

They both flushed – they both remembered it very well.

"Well, um, that's okay, really -" Harry stumbled over his words.

"I did not apologize," Severus arched an eyebrow.

"No, no, of course not," Harry nodded emphatically. "I'm just saying, I didn't mind or anything, not that I think you should be going around saying those sort of things, but to me, it was alright -" He clapped both hands over his mouth in horror. "Sorry," he mumbled out through between his fingers.

"Very well." Severus tried to ignore the subtle implications behind Harry's words. It didn't work very well, and all he could think about suddenly was Harry riding his broomstick _indeed_. Panicking at the prospect of having a hard-on right as he was about to have dinner in front of the entire school, he suddenly felt the inexplicable urge to blame James Potter. Just as he did for everything that had ever gone wrong since their paths had crossed. "It's all your fault," he muttered darkly.

Except that James was no longer alive, he remembered belatedly, and Harry was the only suitable replacement at the moment.

"Huh?" Harry looked confused. Severus tried not to be irritated at how _cute_ it was.

"I blame you," he said slowly, wracking his brains for a good excuse. "For – what happened!"

"What happened?" Harry repeated unsurely, focusing more on the effort of stopping his trousers from tenting than worrying about possibly getting into trouble.

"What happened!" Severus growled. "You do remember, when I was actually being _cheerful?"_

_God, that growl_, Harry moaned inwardly, and immediately tried to think of Dumbledore at the beach. "Urgh, purple polka dots – I mean, yes, I remember, Sir – you think that's my fault?"

"I do." Severus paused. "What was that about polka dots?"

Harry flushed. "Nothing. Not Dumbledore! And it wasn't my fault!"

"Really?" Severus narrowed his eyes, and then, to Harry's alarm, leaned in precariously close. "Your cheeks are flushed. Your pupils are dilated, you are fidgeting, and you are beginning to sweat. All signs of guilt," he purred in his lowest voice, and Harry swallowed hard. _Jesus Christ, this man is sex on legs. And what legs…_

"It's not guilt," he insisted, flinching as his voice raised in pitch. "Really."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Oh, no, Mr. Potter? What then, pray tell, is it?"

_I'm bloody horny, that's what! _Harry took a deep breath. "Well, Professor, I'm bloody horny, that's what."

Both their eyes widened.

"Bugger, I really didn't mean to say that," Harry muttered under his breath, wincing as he awaited a response.

Severus worked his jaw open and shut silently a few times before he spoke. "Point well made, Mr. Potter," he finally said. "Go on, then." He waved weakly at the doors to the Great Hall.

"Um, why don't you go first, Sir?" At the questioning look, Harry blushed. "Just, it'll be a little while before I can walk -" He made a vague gesture to his trousers, and Severus tried very hard not to let his eyes settle on the sight.

"Very well. Might I say, I just hope your – predicament – has nothing to do with whatever you were thinking about our Headmaster, Mr. Potter. Lest I find that I ought to be very worried about your proclivities."

Harry's eyes widened, and he choked. "What? You think I – oh god no! Professor Dumbledore? God, no! Eurgh, I can't believe you'd think it was – ugh! I -"

"Should be on your way to walking by now," Severus smirked. Sure enough, Harry found that he had finally gotten rid of his pesky erection.

He shot a grateful look at Severus. "Thank you, Sir, I'll – I'll just be going now." He bolted into the Great Hall and slid into his seat, avoiding Ron and Hermione's curious looks and grabbing a goblet of pumpkin juice and downing it in one long gulp.

"What took you so long?" Hermione hissed.

Ron elbowed him. "You weren't having another – er, problem again, were you, mate?"

Harry choked on his juice. "No!" His voice was shrill, even to himself, and he cleared his throat forcefully. "I mean, no." Ron eyed him doubtfully. "Really," Harry insisted, until he couldn't stand the skeptical look any longer. "Alright, _yes_, but its all taken care off."

Ron looked a mixture of smug and incredulous. "Cor, mate."

"What are you two talking about?" Hermione asked, leaning in.

Harry shot Ron a warning look. "Nothing, really. I ran into Snape on the way down." As he said this, the Potions Master in question entered the Hall, looking slightly ruffled.

Ron made a choking sound, whipping his head to face between his best friend and the fearsome professor. "Wait - you – Snape – blimey!" He turned to Harry, askance, a desperate note in his voice. "_Please_ tell me he had nothing to do with your – problem."

"Well," Harry hesitated, as Ron started turning green.

"What's this? Was Snape giving you problems, Harry?" Hermione asked, frowning.

"No – I mean, yeah, but – he helped take care of it!"

Ron let out a rather squeaky whimper, making Hermione look at him in puzzlement. "What _is_ the matter with you, Ron? Oh, but I must say, Harry, that's awfully nice of Snape. Even if he was the one who caused it in the first place…Ron? What's wrong with you? Harry, what's wrong with Ron?"

Harry looked over at where his best friend was currently slumped face down into his bowl of mushy peas, then over at Hermione, who was trying to fish him out. He contemplated explaining it, and paused.

Instead, he shrugged, and bit into a chip. "Er – can't say I know, Hermione."

Well. He _had_ vowed to make Ron suffer, after all.

* * *

**AN:** _So much love and thanks to everyone patient enough to stillfollow my humble, insane fic! cookies for new readers, and fudge hearts for the old and loyal. _

_Thank you _Cattatra _(of course you can borrow the phrase!)_; The Sarcastic Typo; Kynny; Crazy-Physco; serena23; Baculities; LeeLeePotter _(hmm, the bent-over-desk scene might get written soon)_; dreamless; Harco Potfoy; SakuraYAvalon; lillyseyes; Ditzy 1978; Lady Darkness13; Shadow Bete Noire; Pris; willowtree16 _(one of these days I'll let Harry top, but not just yet...)_; gcraaf22; aya4328; musicgirl141; Loryta Havgun; Fireblade K'Chona; barbarataku; shadowcat15; Kaaera; ignorant-loaquacity _(aww, thanks!)_; Sev; Chatnoir; Hikari's-dark-side-08; Chailyn Cole Runewood _(good luck with your NaNoWriMo!)_; _and_ Vampire Angel Of Death - _sorry if I've missed anyone!_

_I hope you all enjoyed the latest installment! Unfortunately, this'll have to last you fora while. I'm back doing NaNoWriMo, in the midst of uni-hunting and applications, and besides, my muse is getting tired of playing_ 'How Many Ban Puns, Innuendos and Sexual Tension Moments Can We Fit In One Chapter?' _with me. But stick around, because the slash is coming. Oh yes._

_love and best wishes,  
juxtaposed_


	9. No More Alcohol!

Um, y'all have been waiting long enough for this, I won't keep you:

**

* * *

**

**Chapter Nine: No More Alcohol!**

Hermione gave up on Ron after several fruitless minutes of cajoling, and turned to Harry. "So what was Snape doing to you?"

"Er – what?" Harry choked on his chip. "Nothing!" _Unfortunately_, he thought somewhat glumly, and sighed. "Nothing at all."

She gave him a searching look, but didn't press him for more, although she looked like she was having a hard time trying not to. "Well, alright then. I wanted to tell you, I've been trying to read up on what you did for the – you-know-what – and I was wondering about some of the aspects about how you went about creating the fairy dust..."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, that part was tricky – but, er - can we discuss this later? I'd rather, y'know, not have the entire school know."

"No one's listening to us, and it's not as if they'd know what we're -" Hermione threw a cursory glance around them, as she waved off his concerns, but stopped short.

Harry looked up from where he was dissecting his fish into strips. "What's the matter?"

"Er – why is Malfoy fellating a sausage?"

Harry turned to look at the Slytherin table. Draco waved cheerily at them, then took in an impressive length of sausage between his lips, winking at Harry as he did so.

Harry groaned, but flushed. "You don't really want to know."

"But he's -"

"He _said_, you don't want to know. And I definitely don't want to know. Can we all agree that we should not know?" Ron raised his head from his peas, then made the mistake of glancing at Draco, who was now flicking his tongue over the end of the sausage. "Bloody hell, I really didn't need to see that. Why cant you people just let a man die in his vegetables in peace?"

He was, by and large, ignored.

Hermione looked thoughtful as she eyed Harry's pink cheeks. "Is he – I mean, we know you're...more in my camp than Ron's...are you and Malfoy -?"

Harry gave her a horrified look.

"For Merlin's sake, if you're so determined to torture me before you actually let me die, just Crucio me, it'll be less painful!" Ron complained. "As if it's not bad enough I had to see Malfoy sucking a sausage, you want me to imagine it's _Harry's_ sausage?"

Harry felt his insides shrivel up and die a shrivelly death. "Please never say those words in that order again."

"Well, it's not my fault if she puts thoughts into my head!"

"You know, Weasley, I find that you can only have _thoughts_ if you are inclined to do so," Draco called out cheerfully from his seat. "So perhaps you _like_ the idea of me doing this to Potter -" Here he demonstrated an extremely obscene move on his frankfurter, and licked his lips as he pulled back.

Ron squawked at the implication. "I'm not – I don't – you or Harry -"

Draco looked at him contemplatively. "Or maybe its just to watch - a bit of a voyeur, eh? Well, I thoroughly approve. In fact, let me give you more of a show -" He parted his lips again.

"Mr Malfoy!" Professor McGonagall felt it was time to speak up; as much as she was enjoying the show, it appeared Albus was enjoying it too much - the old man had asked the House-Elves for popcorn - and Severus was grinding his teeth so viciously he would need a new set by the end of it. "Kindly refrain from lewd behaviour in the Great Hall."

Draco blinked innocently at her. "What lewd behaviour? I'm just enjoying this fine bratwurst."

She gave him a wry look. "Well, please enjoy it by actually consuming it. There is no need to repeatedly insert the same sausage into your mouth."

"If you truly believe that, I'm sure that there are very many disappointed men in your past, Professor," Draco said gravely.

"MR MALFOY," Severus said sharply, before Minerva could deduct all of Slytherin's points. He bore down upon Draco and dragged him forcibly out of his seat and out of the Hall.

"All I'm saying is she's a very attractive witch, with upstanding morals," Draco protested as he was being led by his elbow towards the dungeons. "It was a compliment!"

"You must try and stop your inexplicable need to construct situations in which you discuss your professors' sex lives, Draco," Severus groaned. "Or anyone's at all, for that matter."

Draco raised an imperious eyebrow. "If you're referring to my charitable contributions to your cause, I don't believe I heard you complaining earlier. In fact, you seemed rather _uplifted_ by my information."

"I was no such thing!" Severus denied immediately, even though this was an extremely blatant lie.

Unfortunately, Draco had always been precociously perceptive. "Sev, I could have gone camping under the tent you made."

"You are entirely far too camp as it is. And I choose to ignore your extremely obscene comment," Severus remarked flatly. As an aferthought, he added, "Also, don't call me Sev."

"You think that was obscene? Hardly," Draco scoffed. "Obscene would have been if I had pointed out the way your c-"

"Draco!" Severus cut him off, before he could have an aneurysm. "I am your _professor. _I am your _godfather_. You have five hundred years of breeding behind you. Surely you can manage _some_ semblance of decorum?"

"I was just pointing out what would have truly been obscene," Draco sniffed. "I am a misunderstood soul."

With that, he turned and flounced off huffily, leaving Severus alone in the corridor desperately craving more of his precious Firewhiskey. _Surely it wouldn't hurt if I just had a tumbler? _

He'd made it to his rooms before he recalled that alcohol was what had led him into this whole godforsaken mess in the first place. With legendary force of will, he managed not to succumb to the call of his Firewhiskey, which seemed to be giving him the most come-hither type vibe, if a bottle was capable of being coquettish.

_No. There shall be no alcohol. There shall be, in its stead, much reflection on the evils of alcohol when combined with the unquashable lure of a certain celebrity Azkaban-bait. Oh, and yes, not to mention that little problem of who cursed me a few days ago! _

Severus paused mid-rant._ Upon reflection, perhaps the alcohol __might__be a good idea._

_No! No, no, no. No more alcohol. Alcohol leads to being amicable and somewhat less fearsome. Not to mention the reduced mental faculties. Which we need in order to solve the annoyingly puzzling puzzle of my recently cheerful disposition._

As the events began to replay in his head again, from his actually smiling at Hufflepuffs to his actually giving points to Gryffindor and finally to his actually saying something so outrageously innuendo-ridden to Harry bloody Potter, Severus felt the intense urge to kick a kitten, or perhaps just have a go at a light spiel of good old fashioned Muggle torture. He shut his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose and inhaled deeply. _I am a __reformed __Death Eater. Reformed, _he chanted silently to himself.

The alcohol option really wasn't looking so bad at all. He cast an appraising look at the Firewhiskey bottle, which seemed to do a little shimmy at him.

"You are a vile temptress, I hope you know that," Severus told it reproachfully, as he flicked his wrist to summon it over.

It cooed at him.

_Oh, just great, I've become someone to be cooed at. The next thing I know, I'll be hailed as some sort of...Lupin._

Severus glared at the bottle for taking such liberties with him, but it remained irritatingly impervious to his patented Death Eater glower.

"Just for that, I'll not be drinking of you," he said haughtily, and set it down. After a brief pause, in which the Firewhiskey attempted to win him back by sparkling extra-temptingly, he sent it back to a high shelf, out of his range of sight. He let out a sigh of relief once the temptation was no longer in view.

_No more alcohol now._

The relief very quickly faded into a despairing sort of panic.

_No more alcohol! What have I done?_

"Get a grip on yourself," he muttered aloud to himself, then realised he was talking to himself out loud, and immediately cursed. This was no time to descend into madness, there would be plenty of time for that later, possibly in Azkaban, after he murdered whoever had cursed him to be nice. Or after someone found out about the extremely inappropriate thoughts he had been harbouring about a certain Boy-Who-Lived. But as a bright spot, Azkaban would be nice and peaceful; he would be allowed to wallow in his suffering and be as malevolent and generally caustic as he wanted. He was sure he could insult and mock the Dementors as much as he wished, not to mention they would probably diminish all lustful thoughts he had of that Potter brat, yes, Dementors would prove to be extremely useful. It would be a relief: Severus found it unnatural to not immediately disparage a Gryffindor, particularly when that Gryffindor was James Potter's son.

_Perhaps I could ask Albus about having one specially imported in._

_Perhaps,_ Severus allowed his thoughts to roam into a happy place, _perhaps I could chain one to Albus himself, and see if he would finally lose that goddamned cheerfulness. Yes, a Dementor might just do the trick._

_Oh, who am I kidding. This is Albus Dumbledore I'm thinking about. A Dementor could feed off him until it resembled Slughorn and the old coot would still just twinkle at me. He's the epitome of bloody good cheer, and always trying to spread it around, like a transmittable disease - _

A horrible thought occurred to Severus._ Albus!_ It could be Dumbledore himself who had cursed him, it did go with the meddling old wizard's usual modus operandi, trying to force Severus to be pleasant against his will and that of nature. The older man was powerful and sneaky enough to have accomplished it undetected, after all.

_But Albus wouldn't have bothered. He would have just snuck it into my contract when I wasn't looking. _

No, no, Severus rationalized. His initial suspicions were probably the right ones: Dumbledore might be privy to the truth, but was unlikely to be the culprit himself. He was just protecting someone; someone, Severus suspected with deep suspicion, had attractively tousled hair, sharp green eyes and occasionally responded to the title of The-Boy-Who-Killed-Voldemort.

Harry. Bloody. Potter.

Yes, Severus was quite sure that Harry was the one responsible. He loathed to admit it, but Harry _was_ intelligent and creative enough to have done it – partially due to Severus' own training of the lad, of course. And since he was eleven, the boy had been sneaking around, which meant it was probably second nature to him now. Also since he was eleven, he had been a Gryffindor, which meant he was also foolhardy enough to have decided to prank the fearsome Potions Master.

Severus was deeply disappointed in himself to find that he was not immediately planning retribution, and that there was actually a grudging hint of respect for the boy for having pulled it off – if he had indeed done so.

_But I'm sure it's him. I just have to prove it. And when I do, I'll be sure to punish him appropriately. With a tongue lashing. Or, perhaps a firm spanking is in order, even._

Severus blamed his years in the Death Eaters for such deviant thoughts, and for his responding to them without even alcohol to serve as an excuse.

* * *

AN: Um, I do apologize for the 20-month wait in between the last chapter and this one. Hopefully any of you who are still reading this enjoyed it and will continue to do so - I honestly promise that the next chapter will be out in less than 20 months!

Thank you thank you thank you to anyone who is indeed reading this - I have no other words, you have no idea how much it means that you're still following this and that you aren't going to lynch me for taking so long! I know I usually thank each and every one of you by name, but I'm on limited internet time right now - I'll get you all the next time!!


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